


Love is our Resistance

by YTDN



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:44:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YTDN/pseuds/YTDN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Physical Contact has been banned. To even touch another person results in harsh punishment. But love always finds a way to prevail, and here in Paris, a few young people are making it their resistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Single Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this tumblr post http://edgebug.tumblr.com/post/43131811176/sprightlyvigilante-the-year-is-2066-physical

Marius never knew his father. Marius did not find that strange. It was quite a common occurrence. Yes, some people knew and lived with both parents, but an equal amount knew only one, or even neither. And sometimes even their parents did not know each other. This was not considered strange, or even uncommon. And all of this was thanks to the Contact Ban.

The Contact Ban stated that _“all forms of contact between humans be considered assault, and will be punished as a crime. Parties involved cannot claim to have consented to contact: belief to have consented is to be considered a mental disorder, and be treated as such.”_ No hugging, no kissing, no hand-holding, no touching, and definitely no sex. All reproduction was done through artificial insemination, sometimes between two adults who knew each other, but often between total strangers.

This was how Marius believed himself to have been born. His grandfather, Monsieur Gillenormand, told him that his mother chose to have a child using anonymous sperm from the National Reproduction Bank. She then died shortly after his birth from an unrelated disease. So Marius grew up in his grandfather’s care. He learnt how physical contact was an unhealthy, unnatural relic of the past. Those that practiced it were perverts and deviants at best, rapists and violent at worst. To touch another person was to violate every fibre of their being, and to allow yourself to be touched was to have no self-respect and invite the monsters of the world to harm you. Marius learnt this, and believed it to be the truth.

Until one day in his seventeenth year, when he met his father. 

-0-

This particular day started as any other. Marius woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, and walked to school, making sure to stay at least a metre away from anyone else on the pavement. Even brushing up against another person’s shoulder would get picked up by the cameras that lined the streets- although with his grandfather’s money the hefty fine wouldn’t be a problem, it would still go on his record and every mark counted against you in the future. The school he went to was private, but of course followed the national curriculum to the letter, so there was no promotion of deviant acts- although he heard some of his classmates speaking of their ‘exploits’. He had nothing but disgust for those people- deviance was nothing to be proud of, and he knew that they were lying. No-one would take the risk of getting caught. The day’s lessons passed without incident, and he made his way home. 

It was as he made his way home that he heard someone call his name.

He turned.

Standing a few metres away from him was a man. He was old- not the sort of old that came with age, but the sort that came from a life of too much hardship and grief. His clothes were of poor quality, and fraying at the edges. His skin was pale and he was trembling slightly- in fact, it looked as if he was at death’s door. 

But it was his eyes that really stood out. While the rest of him looked dead, his eyes were so alive. He looked at Marius with a look of both delirious happiness and deep sadness, mixed together into something entirely greater.

He had no idea how to react to this strange man, yet felt in his gut that he should know him. “Yes? I’m Marius.”

The man smiled as if relieved, and then spoke a word that Marius never thought he would hear.

“My son.”

Marius didn’t register what he said at first- or maybe he didn’t want to register it. This man must have misspoke- or was insane.

Tears fell freely from the man’s eyes, and he cried out once more, “MY SON!”

And he threw his arms around Marius.

Marius froze. He had never been hugged before, not even when he was a baby. His grandfather, his aunt, his cousin, the servants- no-one had ever shown him this kind of physical affection before, and in this moment he was overwhelmed with a feeling he could not explain. 

So overwhelmed was he that it took a few seconds for him to remember what he was doing was very, very illegal. 

Violently he pushed the man away, and he crashed down on the floor. He looked around the street and realised that not only had all the cameras recorded this, but everyone else on the street was staring at him too. He suddenly felt sick. He had let this man touch him! This old, ill, crazy man!

This man who had called him his _son._

Marius looked down. The man lay on the ground, coughing violently. He looked up, and his eyes met Marius’. He struggled to get up, reaching for Marius, who backed away. This effort however was too much for him, and he fell down.

Dead.

Marius didn’t know what to do. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to process all that had happened to him. Even as the police arrived and the robots ushered him into a van, he barely noticed. He spent five hours sitting in a police cell, completely silent, until his grandfather arrived to pick him up. With a lot of talking and a fair amount of bargaining, his grandfather had convinced the police that Marius was an unwilling victim of a completely random attack, but was strong of mind and had no need for treatment after such a violation. 

As they drove home, Marius finally spoke. “Grandfather.”

“Yes, Marius?”

“That man…” Marius said shakily, “The man who…” he couldn’t say the word hug, “…he said I was his son.”

There was a long silence. Then his grandfather spoke, in the way he always did when he didn’t want any answering back. “That man was insane. Forget about him.”

Marius did not forget.

-0-

Monsieur Gillenormand kept Marius home from school for the next few days, to ‘let him recover from his trauma’. However, he spoke to Marius even less than usual. Marius wondered whether he was disappointed in him- after all, he had allowed that crazy person to touch him, and, though he was at loathe to admit it, _liked it._ That feeling of physical intimacy, even from an insane stranger, had affected him more than anything in his entire life. 

Then, on the third day of what seemed more and more like a house arrest, a second thing happened that would change his life forever.

The gardens of Gillenormand’s house were extensive, and Marius could spend hours just walking about in them. It was far better than in the stifling coldness of the house, where all the servants now treated him like he had a disease. It was mid-morning when Marius noticed someone else in the garden, an old man. At first he passed him off for the gardener, but then realised he was a stranger.

The old man looked at him, “Are you Monsieur Marius?”

“Um, yes,” said Marius. “Are you a visitor? The front door is that way.”

“I am a visitor, here to visit you. My name is Mabeuf.” 

Marius nodded, uncertainly. “What do you need to see me for?” Suddenly, the thought jumped into his head that this man was from the police, and reflexively he took a step back. 

Mabeuf smiled, “There’s no need to worry, Monsieur Marius. I’m not from the police. I’m here to talk about your father.”

 _Father._ That word which had haunted Marius ever since that crazy man had called him his son. “You’re wrong. I don’t have a father.” He turned around, “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“Wait!” Mabeuf called out, “Please, let me explain.”

“Explain what?” said Marius, “I know that some person must have provided my genes, but I don’t care who it was, and I know they must not have cared either. Otherwise, they would have introduced themselves to me.”

“And what if you were conceived naturally?”

Marius froze. “That’s impossible. It’s illegal.”

“It’s illegal, not impossible,” said Mabeuf, “And it’s because it’s illegal that you do not know. Marius, your father and your mother conceived you naturally. Your father agreed to let you be deceived about that to protect you.”

Marius was shaking. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“I think you know why. Marius, your father died three days ago. You saw.”

Marius turned around angrily, “That man was mad. An insane deviant with no respect for the law or my dignity!”

Mabeuf’s face fell, “Mad, maybe. Grief can do things to a man. But he was telling the truth, I assure you.”

“And why should I believe you? How do you know?”

“Because I was friends with your father. All the years as you grew up, he watched you from afar, watching you grow old without him, knowing that for your sake he couldn’t reveal himself. It seems like as his death approached he could not take it anymore, and had to reveal himself to you. His name was George Pontmercy.” Mabeauf handed him a thick envelope, “Read this. And if you need any help, just come to me. Here’s my address.” He handed him a sheet of paper with an address on it.

Marius took the two things, careful not to touch Mabeuf’s hand. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. “Did I kill him?”

Mabeuf shook his head, “Monsieur Pontmercy was already dying by the time he approached you. The stress would kill him either way,” he smiled, “Don’t blame yourself, Marius. It was thanks to you that Monsieur Pontmercy’s last moments were ones of happiness.”

He turned away, leaving Marius alone with all that was left of the father he had never known. After a few minutes, Marius furtively looked around the garden, to see if anyone was watching. When he was sure no-one was there, he opened the envelope, and a photograph fell out. 

It was of a man and woman. The woman he recognised from the photos around the house as his mother. Next to her stood a man with the same black hair as Marius. He was a lot younger, but Marius recognised him as the same man who had hugged him. 

They were his mother and father. 

And they were hugging.

-0-

Marius spent the rest of the morning, the afternoon and evening reading the contents of the envelope. It contained photos, letters, diary entries- a full record of a story Marius had never known. And what a story it was.

Marius’ mother, Mademoiselle Gillenormand, had met George Pontmercy at University. It was love at first sight. They had secretly pursued a relationship for many months, touching and even kissing when no-one could see. But one day Monsieur Gillenormand had caught them, and demanded they break off their relationship or Pontmercy would be reported to the police. They did the opposite. They ran off together, and lived at the inn of one Monsieur Thernadier, who would give them rooms to rent and protect their secret- something that no official landlord would do. And there, in Thernadier’s dingy inn, they had sex, and so Marius was conceived.

But their happiness did not last. When the baby was due, they could not go to hospital, since the very act of conceiving via sex was illegal. Mlle Gillenormand gave birth without assistance. There were complications. And barely an hour after Marius was born, she died. 

Pontmercy was grief-stricken. And what was worse was that after all the years of running M. Gillenormand had finally tracked his daughter down. He demanded that Marius be handed over to him, and knowing that his life would be worlds better as the grandson of a rich man than the son of a fugitive, Pontmercy handed his son over. For the rest of his life he watched his son from afar, slowly wasting away from grief and poverty, never again holding his son in his arms.

Until seconds before he died.

And Marius had pushed him away.

Marius felt sick reading it. He wanted to burn this evidence that rocked his entire worldview, but he couldn’t. First, he felt some sort of duty to the only man who had ever held him (and now he knew that moment three days ago was not the first time). And second, he found his mother and father’s account of love to be fascinating. Their descriptions of touching, of holding hands, of hugging, of kissing, of _making love._ The warm entwining of two bodies, as opposed to the cold distance that Marius had felt his entire life. This passion for another person that Marius had never experienced, this love honoured in the touching of skin and the exploration of each other’s bodies. The more he read it, the more he felt that everything he had learnt was wrong. Touching wasn’t a violation, it was a sign of trust. More than that, it was the natural state of humanity. This unnatural distance which permeated even the act of bringing life into the world, turning what was certainly meant to be an act of love into a business-like transaction. This whole society, with its robot police and robot nurses and robot nannies was destroying what it meant to be human, turning people themselves into robots.

It was wrong. And Marius wouldn’t stand for it anymore.

Late that evening, shortly before everyone went to bed, Marius marched downstairs, and slammed the contents of Mabeuf’s- no, his father’s envelope on the table in front of his grandfather. 

“You lied to me. My whole life you’ve been lying to me.”

Gillenormand looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Where did you get this?”

Marius refused to answer. “My father loved me, and you refused to even tell me he exists.”

Gillenormand’s eyes narrowed, “Your father was a deviant who violated my daughter and caused her death. I was protecting you from the evils of the world.”

“No, you were denying me its beauty!” Marius cried, “My father and mother loved each other! And they both loved me, so much that they chose to give me life as God intended!”

“As God intended?!” said Gillenormand angrily, “You parent’s perversity’s cost my daughter her life! And you dare call it beautiful? Have you remembered nothing I have taught you? Your parent’s desires were unnatural, unhealthy, and they paid for it as they deserved!”

Marius lowered his voice, but still it shook. “I have remembered what you taught me. And now I have learnt how wrong I was. It is the natural state of humanity to demonstrate our love through contact.”

“The law is quite clear on that matter.”

“Then the law is wrong.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Gillenormand spoke. “Get out.”

So Marius did.

Half an hour later, Marius was out the door with nothing but a backpack with his laptop, some clothes and his father’s envelope. He rung up a taxi to Paris, and it took him away from the house he had lived his entire life. He did not look back.

It was only as he saw the city lights of Paris that Marius realised the weight of his decision. 

He was now without shelter, without money and without education. He would almost certainly be on the police watch list as a deviant individual. He wouldn’t be able to get a job, at least not through official channels, and housing would be nearly as hard to come by. His entire future down the drain thanks to one hug and one envelope full of memories.

And Marius did not care. More than that, for the first time in his life, Marius felt _alive._


	2. An Intimate Friend

 Courfeyrac rather enjoyed the city at three in the morning. Yes, it was dark, and cold, and the police would often detain you for random reasons (thank _god_ the Moralists hadn’t managed to pass the curfew law, although the vote was uncomfortably close). But he felt so much freer in the empty streets, without having to perform the perverse dance to avoid touching another person and incurring the wrath of the police. Some days he felt like breaking the rules just out of spite, but then he would at least be thrown out of university, and be unable to spread the good news to all the lovely ladies and gentlemen there. At worst he would be sent to prison, and god knows he would get no relief there. So, to preserve his long-term happiness, he must sacrifice his short-term relief. Such is life.

 The other good thing about the night-time was that the cameras couldn’t pick you up, at least not accurately. So it was much easier to go about your business. Especially if that business was the illegal kind.

 This particular night’s business had involved three girls, two men, a hot tub and maybe a bit too much alcohol (of course, legally _any_ alcohol was too much alchohol). One of the girls and both men were new to such ‘activities’, and Courfeyrac was happy to teach them. He found it hilarious really. In public they stayed a metre away from each other and denounced the perversities of sex, but in private...

 Really, it just showed how the whole system was flawed.  They couldn’t put cameras in everyone’s homes (although, again, the Moralists were proposing that), and for all their control of the media and communications they couldn’t stop people talking to each other. And even if they could do all those things, they couldn’t stop people thinking, feeling, and realising the naturalness of touch.

 So, he walked home satisfied that, while in public he may act imprisoned, in his heart he was free. And, if all went well, it wouldn’t be for long. There were forces at work, forces that Courfeyrac was part of.

 And he could start by helping the poor sap ahead of him in the street, pleading with the police.

 “Please, I am just trying to get home, I mean no trouble.”

Courfeyrac dipped into an alleyway, and took a good look at the figure. The streetlights showed a young, freckled face, barely an adult. His clothes were expensive, and Courfeyrac would have pegged him for some private schoolboy if it weren’t for the abject fear he had for the police.

 “You still must accompany us to the police station so we can check your file. You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide.”

 There was a second pause, and the young man closed his eyes, as if weighing some important decision. Then, he turned and ran down the street.

 The police were caught out for a second, but soon the robots were giving chase. This was Courfeyrac’s chance. He reached out his arm and grabbed the young man as he passed, pulling him into the alleyway.

 “Follow me!” he said, and the young man seemed to understand. The two of them dashed down the alleyway, then down a street, then down another alley. Each time they turned Courfeyrac checked over his shoulder to make sure his new friend was following, and that the police were not.

 Eventually they stopped in a small alcove, and both of them sat down exhausted. Courfeyrac smiled “I’m Courfeyrac. You?” He held out his hand.

 The other boy looked at his hand like it was poisonous, but after few seconds understood, and took his hand. “Marius. I’m Marius.”

-0-

 Marius had no idea how to react to this strange individual. On the one hand, he was a complete stranger. But he had _grabbed_ him, and now he was _holding his hand_. If he was willing to do that, he must be an ally.

 Marius almost chuckled at the thought that less than a week ago he would have seen such an action as one of an enemy.

 Courfeyrac removed his hand from Marius’. “Give me your backpack and jacket.”

 “What?”

 “They’re too distinctive. Take ‘em off.” Marius complied, wondering how this would help. “Do you have any spare clothes?”

 “Yes, in the bag.” Courfeyrac removed a hoodie from the bag, and handed it to Marius, who put it on. Then, Courfeyrac rifled through his own bag, and pulled out a baseball cap.

 “It’s not that fashionable, but it’ll do.”

 “Do for what?”

 Courfeyrac sighed, “The _cameras_. It might be night, but it’s better safe than sorry. Hats obscure your face without drawing the suspicion of a hood.” He pointed at the beret on his head. He looked back into Marius’ bag, “So, where’s your home?”

 “Well, uh… I kind of don’t have one.” Marius still had Mabeuf’s address in his pocket, but had decided on the taxi ride here that he wouldn’t bother the old man, especially not now he had the police were chasing him. He had already risked and done enough by revealing the truth about his father, he didn’t need to hide a fugitive too.

 “Well then, I’ll take you to mine.” He threw his bag at Marius, picking up Marius’ backpack and draping his jacket over the top, so in the dark it looked like a shopping bag. “Now, just walk as if you own place, and if a police officer stops us, run.”

 He confidently stepped out of the alleyway, Marius following behind and trying his best to not look suspicious, which was difficult since he felt very, very suspicious. Luckily, no police officers even saw them, and in about ten minutes, they were at a small block of apartments. “Here it is.”

 As they entered, the night porter, a middle-aged woman, looked up. She saw Marius, and raised her eyebrow at Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac winked back, “He’s a friend. He might be staying a while.”

 The porter held her gaze for a long time. Then she smiled, “As long as you make it up to me.”

 “You don’t even need to ask,” said Courfeyrac, grinning, “Come on, Marius.” He went up the stairs, and Marius followed him up, then along a corridor, then finally into one of half-a-dozen apartments on that floor. Courfeyrac unlocked the door, went in, and turned on the light.

 “Welcome to my humble abode,” said Courfeyrac, gesturing around the modestly-sized studio apartment. To the left there was a small kitchenette, with a table and two chairs. In the centre there was a large screen with keyboard and joystick attachments, with various beanbags and cushions scattered around it. On the right side of the room there was a small bed, a wardrobe, and a door leading to what must be the bathroom.  Noticing that Marius hadn’t spoken for a while, Courfeyrac spoke, “Not what you expected?”

 Marius suddenly felt embarrassed, “No, its fine, it’s just… my entire life I’ve lived in a mansion, so this is a bit… small.”

 “A mansion?” said Courfeyrac, his curiosity perked, “That’s some story. I suppose it’s related to why you ran from the police, and why you didn’t refuse my touch when offered.”

 “It’s… it’s a long story,” said Marius. He was grateful to Courfeyrac for saving him, but he was still trying to process what he had learnt about his father only hours ago. It was too soon to share with others.

 Courfeyrac seemed to understand, “Well, why don’t you have a little rest and we’ll talk about it in the morning. You look exhausted.”

 “Um, where should I sleep?” said Marius. He supposed that the beanbags could be fashioned into some kind of bed, but it seemed rather uncomfortable.

 “Oh, you can sleep in my bed,” said Courfeyrac, “I’ll sleep on the floor until I can wrangle another mattress from the porter.”

 “Another mattress- wait, you’re letting me _live_ here?!” Marius was shocked, “Like, not just for tonight?”

 Courfeyrac shrugged nonchalantly, “Well, you did say you didn’t have a home.”

 Marius was gobsmacked. “But why? We’ve only just met! And I- I could be someone dangerous, you know!”

 Courfeyrac laughed. “Unless you are an excellent actor you are the furthest thing from dangerous I have ever seen. And as for why I’m fine with you staying here?” He walked over to Marius, until he was barely inches away from him, “When we shook hands I understood what you were. A friend.” And he hugged him.

 Marius shied away initially, but as Courfeyrac held him gently, he found himself leaning into the touch. This was different to his father’s hug. That had been laced with the desperation of a dying man. This was… nice.

 After a few seconds, Courfeyrac pulled back, smiling. “Was that your first time?”

 “Second time,” said Marius.

 Courfeyrac laughed, “Well, aren’t you the experienced one. Come on, let’s get you some sleep.” He gently led Marius over to the bed, and he was asleep before he hit the pillow.

 -0-

 When Marius woke up, he had a sudden fit of panic when he realised he didn’t recognise where he was. Slowly the previous day’s events came back to him. Reading his father’s letters, running away from home, being saved by Courfeyrac… it seemed shocking that only a day ago he was still in his grandfather’s mansion. In a matter of hours his entire life had changed.

 “I made it change,” Marius whispered into the emptiness of the apartment. He realised that Courfeyrac wasn’t here. He rolled out of bed (still in the clothes he had arrived in, although Courfeyrac had been kind enough to remove his jacket and shoes) and padded across the room, where there was a note left on the kitchen table.

  _Marius_

_I have to attend lectures so you’re on your own for the day. I would not recommend going outside- you’ll probably get lost again, and your face is probably plastered all over the news by now. I’ll be back around five. Feel free to help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge._

_Courfeyrac_

Marius frowned at the mention of his face being on the news. He sat down in front of the screen and toggled the remote to show the news. Sure enough, his face was there.

  _“In other news, a teenager went missing from his home this morning, only four days after suffering a contact crime. Marius Gillenormand was grabbed by a stranger on his way home from school, and…”_

The news report continued on, including a comment from an ‘expert’ about how the government should do more to treat the victims of such attacks, because being subjected to a contact crime can damage the victim’s mental health and some other nonsense that Marius didn’t hear because he turned the news off in disgust. It made him sick to know that only a week ago he had believed that kind of shit.

 He checked the clock. It was about midday. Five hours until Courfeyrac returned. He didn’t know what to think of Courfeyrac. He had taken Marius in so quickly, and Marius had trusted him so quickly. He had said that Marius was the same as him- was he another person who had only recently discovered touch, and that was why he was so eager for someone to share it with? But his actions the previous night showed a lot more confidence than a newcomer would have. He would have to ask him what his deal was when he came back.

 Not that Marius had much choice in the matter. Here he was, alone, wanted by the police, in an unfamiliar city. He needed all the help he could get.

 He whiled away the hours until Courfeyrac returned lying on the bed re-reading his father’s letters, picking out the details he had originally forgotten. He was so engrossed in reading that he didn’t notice Courfeyrac return until he tapped on his shoulder. Marius yelped, and tried to hide the collection of letters and photos, but Courfeyrac had already picked up on picture, and was studying it intently.

 “Who are the people in the picture?”

 Marius was silent for a long time. Finally he spoke, “My parents.”

 “I can see the resemblance,” said Courfeyrac, “I’m guessing they’re love parents.”

 “Love parents?”

 “You know, a couple that conceived via the act of making love,” said Courfeyrac. He looked at Marius, “You do know what that is, right?”

 “I know what sex is!” said Marius, embarrassed, “Well, I’ve only known since yesterday, and I’m still not quite sure about the mechanics, but…”

 Courfeyrac sat down on the bed, “I could teach you about that if you’d like,” he smirked, “Although we’ll better leave that for later. So anyway, I’m assuming that if your parents engaged in intercourse, then you are the product of such intercourse.”

  “I am,” Marius said proudly, “Although I did not know until a day ago.”

 Courfeyrac smiled, “Good for you. I’m just a boring bottle birth- know who my dad is but there’s no love between him and my mother. Or in fact any kind of affection at all,” he stood up, “It’s depressing, really. Humans are built to love, but it seems that once you remove bodily love you remove the love between souls too.” He paused, “Tell me Marius, with your newfound knowledge and newfound position with regard to the law, do you find yourself wanting to change it?”

 “Change what? The law?”

 “Yes.”

 Marius didn’t have to think for very long. He had already accepted the injustice of the situation, so the only just thing to would be to change it. “Yes. Of course.”

 Courfeyrac smiled, “Then my friend, this evening I will be introducing you to a group which I am part of, which strives to overturn this corrupt system and elevate man to his true self. We call ourselves _Les Amis de l’ABC_.”


	3. The Personal is Political

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains reference to suicide so TRIGGER WARNING.
> 
> EDIT: This chapter has been edited since it's previous version, due to me having second thoughts on some of the Amis backstories, as well as sorting out some contradictions from previous chapters. Credit for the inspiration for Feuilly's backstory goes to Midshipmankennedy on tumblr, who is also writing an AU based on this prompt.

“Is this really the place?” When Courfeyrac told Marius that he meant to take him to meet a group working to overthrow the government, he did not expect to be taken to a café.

 Courfeyrac smiled, “This is just where we’re meeting,” suddenly his face turned serious, “Don’t draw attention to yourself. You may have a hat on, but the police are going to be out looking for you. Luckily you haven’t got a memorable face.” Marius couldn’t tell whether that was a compliment or an insult, so he followed Courfeyrac in silence.

 The Café Musain was a non-descript place. There were a couple of small tables and chairs in the centre of the room, and some larger tables in round booths along both sides. It was quite busy- enough that people were being awkwardly careful as to not hit other customers. There was a middle-aged woman behind the counter, one waitress, and a little serving robot trundling around the room with the drinks. 

 The waitress came up to them as they entered. She immediately recognised Courfeyrac, but cast a suspicious glance at Marius. “The usual, I assume. And your friend?”

Courfeyrac smiled, and walked confidently towards her, “He’ll have the same as me,” he lowered his voice, “Don’t worry about him Louison. I’ve tested him.”

 The tension drained out of her, and she smiled, “Your friends have already arrived. We’ll have your order ready in no time at all.” She bustled away to the counter.

 Courfeyrac looked over to the corner, where two figures were sitting. “There they are. Come on.” He walked over, and Marius followed. As they sat down, Marius got a better look at them. Both were men a few years older than him- university students like Courfeyrac probable. One of them had short brown hair, and piercing gaze which seemed to analyse every part of Marius. The other one was almost his opposite. While the other one was non-descript, this one stood out like a flower in a field of thorns. He had long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was so beautiful Marius could have mistaken him for a girl. It was more than just his appearance though- he seemed to radiate purpose even when sitting still, and it intimidated Marius.

 Before anyone could say anything, Marius felt someone touch his hand, and almost jumped out of his seat, but buttoned down that reflex. He looked down, and saw that the non-descript one had reached over under the table and touched his hand. He seemed to see Marius’ distress, and smiled. “Don’t worry. I was just checking for your reaction. It’s hard to get rid of those reflexes, especially for someone who was only recently awakened,”

 Marius blushed, “Sorry about that.”

 “There’s no need to be sorry,” said the blonde one, “That reaction is only thanks to the repressive society that you grew up in. The one that you say you want to help overthrow,” he leaned across the table, “I trust Courfeyrac’s judgement of people’s hearts, but I need to hear it from your own mouth. Why do you want to join us?”

 Marius sat silently for a long while, long enough for Louison to come over with their coffees. Finally, he spoke, making sure to keep his voice down. He told of his meeting with his father, and the life-changing experience that hug was. He told an edited-down version of his father’s story, and how it inspired him to defy his grandfather and run away from home. He explained how meeting Courfeyrac had let him know there were other people like him in this world, and how hearing about the ABC had shown him that resistance was possible.

 The brown-haired one cut in there. “Possible, maybe. But dangerous. Marius, I know how you feel, because I’ve felt it too. You must understand though that this is dangerous. We’re fighting against a whole system, one that has been in place since before our parents were born, one so successful it has repressed the most basic inclinations of humanity. I am not exaggerating when I say that we could very well die in this cause. Why do you want to rebel in this way, instead of just secretly disobeying the law like your father did?”

 There was another long silence, as Marius thought long and hard about his reasons. The two students looked at him expectantly, and even Courfeyrac seemed to be staring at him. When he spoke, he spoke with conviction.

 “Because we shouldn’t have to. My parents shouldn’t have had to keep their affair secret. My father shouldn’t have had to give me up so I could have a good life. Touching shouldn’t have to be an act of rebellion, but the only way to make it so is by fighting against the system,” he took a deep breath, “And I can’t go around saying that yet not be willing to fight myself. I’m not a coward.”

 “It’s not cowardly to want to live,” said the brown-haired one.

 Marius shrugged, “Maybe. I don’t know. But I already abandoned the safety and comfort of my grandfather’s home and got myself wanted by the police out of principle. If I really cared so much for my own life I wouldn’t have done that.”

 The two students looked at each other. To Marius it seemed that they were communicating telepathically. After a few moments, they faced Marius again, and the blonde one spoke. “Well, I don’t think we can doubt your sincerity or determination. But there’s more to this than that. I apologize if this sounds rude, but it needs to be said. Can we rely on you to not be an idiot? More people get caught from carelessness than anything else, and one loose end can blow our whole operation.”

 Marius thought that was rude, but understood what he meant. He decided to be honest, “I am afraid that I don’t have much experience with dodging the law. But I’ve never had a black mark on my record before a week ago, and I think I can keep a low profile. Courfeyrac tells me I don’t stand out much.” Courfeyrac chuckled at that. “I will have to learn how to stay under the radar properly, especially while engaging in illegal activities, but I think with some help I can manage it. I swear that whatever you need me to do I’ll do it.”

 “You don’t need to go that far,” said the blonde one, “This is a voluntary organisation, not an army. Every person here is here because he or she wants to be here. But yes, that dedication had to be paid back with trustworthiness. Luckily for you, Courfeyrac has already taken you under his wing, and he’s one of my most trusted lieutenants. He’ll be able to show you the ropes.”

 Courfeyrac  smiled, “I’ve already taught him the basics. Including the importance of hats.”

 The two students both cracked a smile at this, the first one since they met. Marius felt at ease. “So, can I-“ Suddenly he was cut off by Courfeyrac holding up his finger in a _shh_ gesture. He gestured to the door. Marius looked round, and saw a police officer had walked in.

 “Go to the toilet,” said the blonde one, “Now.”

 Marius didn’t need to be asked twice. He carefully climbed out of the booth, and was through the door next to the bar in seconds. Luckily, the officer was too distracted by Louison asking for his order to notice Marius slipping away. He wondered if this was part of the arrangement that Louison seemed to have with Courfeyrac and his friends.

 Through the door next to the bar was a wide corridor. On the right were two doors leading to the ladies and gents toilets. On the left was a set of stairs leading to the first floor, and under them a door labelled ‘staff only’. At the end was the second exit. All businesses had to have at least two public entrances and exits, not including fire exits. This was to ease congestion, and prevent any accidental contact. Marius went into the gents toilets, sat in one of the cubicles, and waited.

 And waited.

 And waited.

 After about five minutes, Marius wondered if he should do something. After all, sitting in a toilet cubicle for five minutes would look quite suspicious. Maybe he should make some noise imitating… Luckily, before he could embarrass himself, someone knocked on the door of the cubicle. Marius nearly genuinely pissed himself, until he heard Courfeyrac’s voice.

 “Come out. The coast is clear.” Marius opened the door and stepped out of the cubicle. “Okay, listen carefully. When we step out of this bathroom, the door to the storeroom will be right opposite. We walk straight in, and make sure no-one sees you. The others are waiting in there,”

 Marius understood. Anyone inside the café would assume the others were going out the back entrance, when in fact they were going to the storeroom- although he thought it would be a bit difficult to have meetings there. Courfeyrac went to the door and opened it, poking his head out to see if anyone was coming. This was a normal manoeuvre that everyone did to avoid crashing into someone on your way out. Luckily, there was no-one in the corridor, and in barely two seconds both Courfeyrac and Marius had crossed the corridor, gone under the stairs and into the storeroom, the door swinging shut behind them.

 The other two students were waiting for them there. The blonde one stepped forward, “I apologize for not introducing ourselves earlier, but if we had decided not to let you join us then it would be safer for you not to know our names. I am Enjolras, and my friend is Combeferre. Welcome to _les Amis de l’ABC_.”

 Marius couldn’t believe it, “You’re letting me join. _You’re letting me join_?!”

 Courfeyrac laughed, “See, Enjolras? I told you I was an excellent judge of character.”

 Combeferre smiled, “We know that. It’s just important to judge someone’s brain as well as their heart.”

 “Oi!” exclaimed Courfeyrac playfully.

 Enjolras smiled, “This way, Marius.” He walked over to the corner of the storeroom, behind a bunch of shelves. At first Marius wondered what on earth they could be looking for. Then, Enjolras lifted up a large crate, and tapped one of the tiles under it. Marius watched as part of the floor came away from the rest, revealing a ladder descending into the darkness.

 “You first,” said Enjolras. Marius took a deep breath, and slowly climbed down the ladder.

 It was a long way down- maybe five, ten metres- Marius couldn’t tell, the darkness was so claustrophobic. Slowly, he saw a faint light at the bottom, getting brighter and brighter. Finally, his feet hit the ground. He turned. Before him was a large room. The walls were papered with drawings and photos, maps and diagrams. There were more on the table on the left side of the room, and on the right side a fridge, and boxes full of bottles of god-knows-what. At the end of the room was a large bank of screens and other electronics, resembling a control room. To the left of that was a mattress with a hodge-podge of medical equipment next to it. Behind him, on the same wall as the ladder, there was a door.

 And in the middle of the room were six people, about the same age as Courfeyrac, splayed out in various positions over a collection of beanbags, rugs and cushions.

 They were all touching each other.

 Enjolras jumped off the ladder next to him, and addressed this group of students, “My friends, I am pleased to introduce the newest member of our group. His name is Marius. You’ve probably seen him on the news.”

 “I _have_ ,” said the youngest-looking student, who Marius thought was a girl from his hair and clothes until he spoke. “The story captured my heart,” he stood up and walked towards him, “One young man, who having been denied the glories of touch for his entire life, is suddenly offered it in another’s dying wish, and is so awakened,” he smiled, “It’s so romantic!” he threw his arms around Marius, and then drew back. “I’m Jean Prouvaire, although you can call me Jehan.” He turned back to the others, “Well, introduce yourselves!”

 Each of them introduced themselves in turn. There was Bahorel, a broad, bearded man with more muscles than Marius had ever seen in his life. There was Joly, a mousy, worried-looking man, and entwined with him was Bossuet, a smiling, cheerful-looking sort who was also completely bald. There was Feuilly, a rough looking man with poor clothing, but intelligent eyes. Then there was Grantaire, who also looked rough but in a different way, and his smile was more of a smirk. He was drinking from a bottle the same as the ones at the side of the room, and he offered one to Marius. Marius took a sip, and immediately spat it back out.

 “What is this?”

 Grantaire smirked, “This, my friend, is alcohol. The forbidden substance that causes people to lose their inhibitions and touch each other. You’ll get used to the taste.”

 “Stop teasing him, Grantaire,” said Enjolras. He gestured to the group, “These are my lieutenants, along with Combeferre and Courfeyrac,” he said, gesturing to the aforementioned two who had just made their way down the ladder. “Our group has about forty members, but it’s these who are the primary members, and you’ll find down here most. Madame Huchelop and Louison are down here all the time.”

 “Well, they do live here,” said Grantaire sarcastically.

 Combeferre spoke, “It’s still important to know. If you need help, they can provide it. Food, information, medical care- They're here 24/7, which is good since all of us are busy during the day. We’re all students except for Feuilly, who works all day.”

 “I was going to be a student,” said Marius, sadly.

 Bossuet laughed, “So was I, until I crashed into a lecturer and got thrown out, which meant I couldn’t get housing either,” he clapped his hand on Joly’s shoulder, “Luckily, I had a friend willing to put me up for no cost at all.”

 Joly laughed, “Well, you’re lucky I love you so much. It’s a big risk, having illegal lodgers.”

 “It’s illegal?” exclaimed Marius.

 “What, Courfeyrac didn’t tell you?” said Feuilly, “You have to have an excellent record for a permit to share houses. Offenders like you and Bossuet could never get one.”

 “Don’t sweat it,” said Courfeyrac, “Me and the landlady have an arrangement, as does Joly with his landlord- although I don’t think it’s _quite_ like mine.” He smirked.

 “Arrangements like that are quite common,” said Combeferre, “The authorities depend on landlords to report these kind of things, and they’re only human. They can be swayed to our side.”

 “Or bribed,” said Grantaire, “You got enough money, you can even get officials to alter your records.”

 Marius thought for a moment, “Maybe that’s how grandfather got me registered,” he wondered aloud.

 “What?” questioned Enjolras.

 “Well, I was born naturally.”

 “WHAT?!” said all of them. Suddenly, all the eyes were on him.

Marius fidgeted, “Well, it’s a bit complicated.” And for the third time that day, he explained his father’s story. When he was finished, Jehan was crying.

 “That was _beautiful_ ,” said Jehan, draping himself over Marius in another hug.

 “I think it just shows how fucked the system is,” said Grantaire, “I mean, your grandfather pulled some strings easily to get you registered, but tons of other people get stuck outside the system ‘cause they’re broke.”

 “I get the feeling that a lot of the rich and powerful don’t follow those rules,” said Courfeyrac, “Considering the stuff I’ve heard, especially from really rich kids.”

 “It makes sense though,” said Combeferre, “While I’m sure there are many who do believe in the ideology, I think most of the ones in charge only pay lip service to it. For them it’s about control.”

 “What do you mean?” asked Marius.

 “Well, it’s just a hypothesis, but the more you study the subject, the more you realise that the ideology is bullshit. Health reasons are a false flag, since we have the sanitation technology to make such problems irrelevant. Offences to human dignity as well; it is entirely possible to prevent harm to people while still allowing them to show affection. If they really believed all this, then it is the equivalent of smashing a peanut with a hammer. No, the real reason they banned human contact is to separate us from our common humanity. Touch is the primary way that humans showed affection for thousands of years- in fact the human race would die out without it, considering how before IVF sexual intercourse was the only way of producing children. By removing this way of showing affection, it alienates people from each other, and replaces their affection for each other with affection for the state,” Combeferre breathed, “Or something like that. None of us can know really what the government is thinking, but it is patently obvious to any human that experiences it that touch is a natural part of humanity. There’s no way so many people could have come to believe the opposite that they could take over the country. There must be an ulterior motive to it.”

 “Wow,” said Marius, “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

 Combeferre smiled, “Well, it was all that thought that first awakened me to the unnaturalness of this society. Enjolras was the same.”

 Marius looked around the group, “So wait, how did all of you ‘awaken’?”

 Courfeyrac smiled, “Well, we’ve got all sorts of stories. Why don’t you sit back with that drink and we’ll regale you with tales of love, longing and luck.”

 Each of them told their story, as Marius attempted to drink the contents of the bottle. Enjolras and Combeferre had both independently come to the conclusion that human touch was the a natural inclination, but only realised there were others who felt that way when they met each other at University, and were inexorably drawn to one another. Courfeyrac had always had an active libido from the moment he hit puberty, and was soon part of the contact subculture. It was not until he met Enjolras and Combeferre at University though that he thought of actually challenging the system. Feuilly had been one of those people with no parents, born entirely by anonymous donations, and had grown up in a government orphanage. But as he grew up he had started questioning the system, and soon awakened all by himself. He had refused to work for the government, as was the usual path for ‘state-raised’ children, and instead had left, getting low-paid jobs wherever he could find.

 Jehan’s awakening came when he was on a trip to the countryside as a teenager, and studied the actions of animals in the wild. He had then had a short but beautiful romance with a girl living in the village he was staying at, which included a lot of ‘rolling in the hay’ and was tragically cut off when Jehan had to go home.  Bahorel had been born in the countryside to a liberal family- there were much less cameras there, so he had always had an anti-authoritarian streak, and had taken up contact seemingly because it was forbidden. His real epiphany seemed to have come when he realised he could simply punch out police officers, or even police robots with enough training. Joly and Bossuet told a hilarious but oddly cute story about their mutual awakening. Joly had been a true believer in the government’s propaganda; he believed that even the tiniest bit of physical contact spread disease. Bossuet meanwhile was chronically unlucky- he already had several black marks on his record by the time he made it to University (barely), mostly thanks to accidently crashing into people. The two students’ meeting came when Bossuet tripped and fell down a flight of stairs onto Joly. Joly’s immediate desire was to run away, but then he saw that Bossuet had hit his head and was bleeding rather badly. The nature of the accident meant they couldn’t call the official medical robots, and Joly wasn’t confident that he could lie effectively. He was torn between his aversion to physical contact and his doctor’s instinct to fix people, and his doctor’s instincts won out. Luckily, the cameras at that part of the University weren’t working that day, so Joly dragged Bossuet into an empty classroom and fixed him up, and thus was the beginning of a beautiful friendship that eventually blossomed into a romance.

 As they told these stories, the nine men moved about, touching each other, holding each other and lying on each other in every single combination. Marius was quite reluctant at first- a whole lifetime of conditioning doesn’t go away in a day- but everyone seemed to understand his nervousness and eased him into it, and slowly but surely Marius became more comfortable with their touches. The alcohol may have helped too. It was an amazing feeling though, this camaraderie. He had never had friends at school, and even his grandfather had never shown him much care. His father’s touch was the first true affection he had received, and now there was this. For the first time in his life he felt like he belonged.

 By the time Grantaire started to speak, Marius was experimenting with initiating touches. Grantaire had originally got into rebellion for love of drink- as a teenager he knew a guy, and they would spend hours drinking in his friend’s parents’ house.  But he ended up being caught by the police, and sent off the prison. Grantaire said that that was the inevitable fate of anyone who tried to rebel, which put him in quite a bind- he knew your screwed up the system was, but saw no way to change it. He drifted through school into university, drinking and screwing in private, but never really considering rebellion. Until one day he spied Enjolras. Grantaire described it as love at first sight- Enjolras had made such an impression on Grantaire that he had occupied his mind until he could not take it anymore. He waited until there were no people or cameras about, walked up to Enjolras, and grabbed him. Luckily for Grantaire, Enjolras had turned out to be a liberal, and instead of reporting him like a ordinary person, had invited him to join his group. Well, less invited and more Grantaire bugged him until he relented and allowed him to join.

 “That was an incredibly stupid thing to do though,” said Enjolras, “If anyone had seen, you’d have been arrested. Or dead.”

 Grantaire smiled gently, an altogether different look from the smirk he had worn since the start of the evening, “It would have been worth death to just get one touch from you.”

 Marius thought on that, and then spoke up, “Has anyone died? I mean, in your group.”

 There was a silence, and suddenly Marius realised he had said something terribly wrong. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

 “No,” said Enjolras, “It’s a legitimate question. Since our cell’s formation, we’ve had five deaths. The first was Maria, almost two years ago. She got shot trying to escape when the police caught her putting up posters after dark. The second two were Ali and Fabreau, about a year ago. They got killed in a firefight when the police to their house to arrest them. The fourth was Alex, about a month after that. The police had found his ID at Ali’s house, and Alex tried to escape in a car but crashed during the chase,”

 “Who was the fifth?” said Marius, “I mean, you said there were five.”

 “Ricardo,” said Courfeyrac, “The fifth was Ricardo.” Courfeyrac had an expression on his face that Marius had not seen in all the- well, in the one day he had known him. But Courfeyrac had had a cheery demeanour even when they were running from the police. This was different. Courfeyrac took a deep breath, “It was about three months ago. He and me were at a party. Someone got careless- I dunno who, there were over a hundred people there- but the police crashed it. I managed to escape, although minus my jacket my jacket and shoes, which made for a very awkward walk home. Ricardo… didn’t make it.”

 “Did he get shot?” asked Marius.

 Courfeyrac was silent. In the end, it was Combeferre who answered. “No. As…as far as we can tell, from the police report, when the police broke in and started arresting everyone, Ricardo locked himself in the bathroom and…” it seemed to be horribly difficult for Combeferre to speak the words, “… slit his own throat with a razor.”

 Marius’ eyes widened. “He killed himself?” He was gobsmacked, “But why? To make sure he couldn’t betray you guys?”

 “It’s more than that,” said Courfeyrac, speaking up again, with the same dark expression on his face, “Although that was certainly a factor. Do you know what happens if they arrest you, especially for rebels like us? You get sent to a facility where you are completely separated from human touch. Robots bring you food, robots clean your cell, robots do everything. You can’t even talk to people in the cell next to you, because the walls are soundproofed. The only people you talk to are your ‘counsellors’, who ‘assess your treatment’ and decide on your ‘punishment’- your torture, basically- if you keep having desires to touch other people. Robots do all the torturing of course- you don’t even get that kind of touch. This goes on until they break you- and that happens, god it happens- and they get to parade around the wretch that once was you as a ‘reformed criminal’, as someone they _cured_. Or maybe they don’t break you. Maybe you just spend your entire life in that hellhole, until you die of old age.” He looked at Marius with utter sincerity, “Either way, you never feel the touch of another human being ever again. If I ever got in a situation where the choice was between that or dying, _I would never stop trying to kill myself_.”

 The rawness of that story made Marius want to throw up. But what was somehow more unsettling was the sincerity in Courfeyrac’s eyes. He meant every word. And looking around the group, to the nine men who were now his friends, he saw that they all had those same eyes.

 


	4. Going Underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a re-upload of an earlier version of the chapter so everyone can see there have been changes. Most significant changes are to Chapter 3.
> 
> I am going to be on holiday for the next week so no updates. Thank you for your support!

Two weeks had passed since Marius joined _Les Amis de l’ABC._

Enjolras hadn’t given him permission yet for him to join the Amis in their ‘missions’, which was understandable, considering his inexperience. He had spent most of his days cooped up in Courfeyrac’s room, consuming articles, stories, poetry, videos, music- everything he could get on the ‘contact’ movement. Marius spent his nights at the Musain, talking with the other Amis into the small hours. It was one of these evenings when, along with the lieutenants and a scattering of other people, a small boy appeared.

The first thing Marius noted about him was he was the dirtiest, scruffiest child he had ever seen in his life.

The second thing Marius noted was that he hadn’t entered the basement by coming down the ladder from the café. He had entered through the door next to the ladder, the door that Marius had ignored until now.

He immediately threw himself at Courfeyrac, who pulled him into a hug. “Gavroche! God, I haven’t seen you for ages! How have you been?”

Gavroche shrugged, “Alright. Been busy. Had two newbies to train- from official families, no experience or nothin’”

Courfeyrac laughed, “What a coincidence! We’ve got a newbie too!” He turned to Marius, “Gavroche, this is Marius. Marius, this is Gavroche. He's a natural child, like you”

Marius had only seconds to prepare before Gavroche threw himself at him, knocking him onto his arse. “’Ow do you do, Marius? Nice to see another guy like me around the place,”

Marius blinked, “Um, fine thanks. Um,” he looked over at the door that Gavroche had come out of, “Where did you just come from?”

“From underground.”

“Yeah, but from where underground?”

Gavroche looked up at Courfeyrac, “He doesn’t know about the underground?”

Courfeyrac smiled guiltily, “Well, we thought we’d introduce things to him gradually. He’s still trying to get his head around sex.”

Gavroche laughed, “Well, how about I show him around once I’m done here,” he looked back down at Marius, “You’ll need to know your way around town if you’re going to be a rebel.”

“Um, okay,” said Marius, not really understanding exactly what he meant, but it sounded like something he ought to know.

The rest of the meeting went as usual. Most of the discussion was about what they should talk about in this week’s _Voice of the ABC_ podcast. This was the Amis main production, and it was apparently one of the most listened to anti-government shows you could find on the web- Enjolras’ rousing speeches were especially popular(his pseudonym was ‘Apollo’- in fact all the contributors had pseudonyms drawn from Greek Mythology. It was Grantaire’s idea). Finding it was the problem. Feuilly had a team of six people whose entire job it was to make sure their website was easily accessible while still available- and considering the government both controlled internet access and had whole departments devoted to tracking down and taking down anti-government material, this was harder than it sounded. Marius couldn’t even hope to understand the technology behind it, but Feuilly assured him that whatever the government did, the people always found a way around it. The truth wanted to be free.

Slowly people began to trickle away, until Enjolras decided to call it a night at about 3am. However, this time, instead of climbing up to the ladder into the Musain (which was closed at this hour), Gavroche took him by the hand and pulled him through the door next to the ladder.

“Good luck Marius!” yelled Courfeyrac, as Marius disappeared into the darkness, “Don’t get murdered!”

Marius gulped as Gavroche led him along a pitch black tunnel. “Did Courfeyrac really mean that about getting murdered?”

“Oh yeah,” said Gavroche nonchalantly, “It’s what you get for living somewhere outside the law. ‘Course, half the people here couldn’t get the law t’ protect them if they tried.” They came to another tunnel, this one lit dimly by some cheap lights. Although old and decrepit, its walls were tiled, and it followed a set of stairs down. “This place used to be a train station. You know they used to have a whole system of trains under the city, taking people from one place to another? Well, when the ban came in, they shut it all down ‘cos it was too cramped, and blocked all the entrances so people couldn’t come in from above, and left it like that. ‘Course, people found a way in, and they added to it. There’s like a whole other city underground. You got the train tunnels, sewer tunnels, and even like medieval tunnels, along with stuff dug since the ban came in, all connected up.”

“Wow,” said Marius, “The people who live here… they’re all contact offenders and illegals, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” said Gavroche, “Though I wouldn’t call them that to their faces. These are all people who can’t live anywhere ‘cause they either broke the law or weren’t born legally in the first place. I wasn’t,” he turned to Gavroche, “Wanna see them?”

Marius thought for a few seconds. On the one hand, this dark, underground world was quite scary, and Courfeyrac’s warning was still ringing around his head. But on the other hand, it was this world that was the product of the unjust society in which they lived. He would be a coward to shy away from it.

“Yeah. Lead the way.”

Gavroche took him by the hand, and led him down the stairs. Eventually, they emerged onto an old Metro platform. All along it were shoddily built tents, and Marius could see suspicious eyes peeking out of from behind the flaps.

“Keep hold of my hand,” said Gavroche, “It lets them know that you’re on their side.”

Marius gripped the little boy’s hand tighter. The people were dressed in much the same way as Gavroche, and many of them seem not the have washed in weeks. But it wasn’t as if they were living primitively. He could see wires criss-crossing the roof of the tunnel, and various improvised electronics- heaters, lights, electronics. Gavroche gestured for him to come down off the platform onto the rails, and led him down the old rail tunnel. Here, the housing became even more sophisticated. People had dug into the tunnel walls, forming little rooms to live in, and he recognised some of them as what must be shops.

A thought jumped to his mind, “How do they get food? I mean, they can obviously siphon off electricity from above, and logically the same can be done with water, but you can’t grow food down here, and you can’t buy it legally, so…”

Gavroche laughed, “Well, Courfeyrac always gives me food when I visit, but mostly me and my crew just steal it. We’re all kids, so it’s easier for us to sneak around up above. Clean out a regular sized house and you’ve got food for a couple of days.”

“Uh-huh,” mumbled Marius, not quite sure how to react to that, “But wait, isn’t there the black market?” When Marius joined the Amis, Feuilly had set him up with a new phone, and loaded it with ‘black’ currency that you could use to buy things on the black market.

“Well, yeah,” said Gavroche, “There’s a whole economy down here, and up above too. Thing is, it’s all run by the Patron-Minette.”

“Who are they?”

“They’re the guys who run this town. Well, not exactly run,” said Gavroche, grimacing, “It’s more like if you live down here, you gotta watch out for them. They’re the ones Courfeyrac warned about.”

Marius gulped, “And, er, do they trouble you?”

Gavroche laughed, “Nah, I’m pretty tight with them. Do odd jobs for them sometimes. You’ll have to watch out though. They like to, well, _welcome_ newcomers.”

Marius felt cold, and it wasn’t just because they were underground. This whole situation was so far from his experience it was difficult to comprehend. “Why would anyone live down here?”

“I said it, didn’t I? Because they got on the wrong side of the law, and they didn’t have anyone up top willing to risk letting ‘em live with ‘em.” Gavroche said “And some of the people here never had no choice. If you got born out the system like me, you can never get along.” He shrugged, “It used to be there were slums and stuff where you could live, but they bulldozed all that before I was born. They don’t want scum ruining their paradise, so they just shove us down here. Guess that’s the point though. People don’t want to end up here, so they follow the law, don’t touch no-one or have no kids or nothin’. ’Course, even some of the people who mess up still don’t wanna live down here, so they don’t run when the police come for them. ‘Stead they go to prison, get ‘fixed’ and come out _happy and healthy_ ,” Gavroche laughed, “There’s no way I’d ever do that.”

Marius couldn’t help thinking back to his own father. Although much of him loved and mourned the father he hardly got to meet, part of him resented him for abandoning him. But when this could have been his fate had he not been given up to his grandfather, he couldn’t hate his father for that. Still, seventeen years with no hugs, no touch and no _love_ \- because his grandfather didn’t love him, not really- that was as much of an abuse as starving underground. At least, that is what Marius felt; now he had experienced love. It was a choice his father should never have had to make.

“Where are we going?” he asked Gavroche.

“To my home,” Gavroche said brightly, and Marius wondered how he could stay so cheerful, especially after hearing his frustration previously.

They walked for about half an hour, winding through tunnels, up stairs, down ladders, until eventually they came to a door. Well, it was less of a door and more a few planks of wood nailed over a hole in the wall. Gavroche knocked on it, “I’m back. I brought food, and a friend.” The two lower planks slid away, and Gavroche got down onto his hands and knees and crawled through. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit,” he called from the other side of the door.

Marius ended up having to get down onto his belly and wriggle under the planks like a snake. When he emerged, he was treated to a sight he had never seen in his life. The room was small, but packed in there were about a dozen children. Except for one at the door (holding a gun!), they were all curled up in a big pile. This was something Marius had found so different- and, although he knew it was only his education talking, unsettling- about this underground world. The people huddled up in their tents or rooms touched each other as if it was second nature. It wasn’t like how it was in Amis meetings. There, it was a burst of relief, an act of rebellion. Here, it was just natural. Is this how society was before the ban? People just touched each other without any fear or excitement?

Upon seeing Gavroche, the children uncurled themselves from their pile, and Gavroche emptied the bag that Courfeyrac had given him. It was full of food. “Now the bread is fresh, so we eat that first,” he said to two of the boys, who Marius noticed were slightly less unwashed than the rest. Gavroche noticed him noticing, “These are the two newbies I was talking about. Their parents got done for touching, and these two didn’t fancy getting arrested, so they legged it. I found ‘em running and decided to take them in. Woulda ended up in some orphanage otherwise, and nobody deserves that.”

“What about the rest of them?” asked Marius, looking at the children hungrily tucking into the food, “How did they… end up here?”

“Oh, we’ve got all sorts,” said Gavroche, “Some of them are kids their parents had naturally, but didn’t have the heart to abort or the money to forge official birth records. Some are runaways or youth offenders. Some were born down here, but their parents bought it. There’s all kinds of ways to die here. You can starve, or fall in the sewer, or have a tunnel collapse, or simply get lost and never return. Or you can get killed. There’s the Patron-Minette of course, and hundreds of other guys who’d just kill you for looking at you funny. Then there are the clearouts. Those things are nasty.”

“The clearouts?” asked Marius.

“Well, the government know we’re here, right? So every year or so, they send down a bunch of robots and police to just clear everyone out.”

Marius gulped, “Clear out as in, arrest or… kill?”

“Both,” said Gavroche, far too nonchalant for Marius liking, “It’s supposed to be that only those who resist get shot- and considering what getting’ arrested means, a lot of people do- but I guess they only have space for so many people, or maybe they don’t want to fuss, so they shoot most people. Thing is: they don’t know the underground nearly as much as we do, and there are miles and miles of places to hide. Hell, usually we just wait them out and then return to the places they cleared out!” Gavroche said triumphantly.

Marius couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not the government’s actions- he’d learnt that from the ABC meetings. No, it was the fact that Gavroche was still so cheerful despite this. “How are you so _happy_?”

Gavroche smiled, “I’m happy because I’m free.”

Marius quietened at that, because it was true, wasn’t it? He himself had not been as happy as he was in these last two weeks. Yes, he had to live off the food Courfeyrac had or Louison brought downstairs. Yes, he had to only go out at night, and dodge past police officers, and go through the awkward song-and-dance every time he went to the Musain. But the gentle touches of his friends, the hugs, the fact that he had held Gavroche’s hand the whole way down here- that filled a hole in his heart that he had always felt was there since he was a child. This brought him a happiness that no amount of material comforts could provide.

The next hour or so he spent simply sitting quietly, watching the children, and after a bit of prompting, let them climb on him. It was a bit weird at first, but slowly he got used to it. It made him sad actually- when he was their age, he would have never dared touch anyone. If he fell and hurt himself, it was the cold, metallic touch of a medical robot that carried him, instead of the gentle touch of a parent or a friend. Sitting in that room, with theses children sitting on him, let him imagine he was in a world where this wasn’t illegal, where they weren’t hiding underground out of fear of the police.

Suddenly, they heard another knock on the door. The kid with the gun raised it. A female voice called out, “It’s Éponine!”

Gavroche pulled the two lower planks out, and a girl wriggled into the room. She had long, straggly black hair, and was just as dirty as Gavroche. She saw Marius staring at her, and smiled mischievously, “Who do we have here? A visitor from above?”

“This is Marius,” said Gavroche, “I’m showing him around.”

“He a rebel then?” said Éponine, kneeling down in front of Marius. She touched his face, looking up and down at him. She smiled. “You’re cute.”

She kissed him.

Marius’ entire mind went blank. She was kissing him. She was _kissing_ him. She. Was. Kissing. Him.

He screamed, and pushed her away.

Gavroche laughed at him. Éponine just stared, surprise by his violent reaction. “What, you never been kissed before?”

“No!” exclaimed Marius.

“Huh. Thought all you rebels spent all your time at orgies and stuff,” she grinned, “You’re so _innocent!_ ”

Marius sat there on the floor, blushing furiously. She had kissed him, against his will, and she was making fun of him for it! This was a _violation_ , this was… he tried to calm himself down. She thought these things were normal; he couldn’t blame her for that. Still, he couldn’t make himself feel comfortable about it. That was his _first kiss_. He wanted it to be with someone special, not some random girl who saw it as a _joke_

“So, what’cha visiting for, ‘Ponine?” asked Gavroche, ignoring Marius.

“We need someone small for a job, and neither me nor Azelma are small enough,” said Éponine, also ignoring Marius.

“Ehhh…” Gavroche mumbled, “I mean, I’m fine with helping, but I promised Marius I would show him around.”

Éponine grinned, “I’ve got an idea. How about you go do the job, and I’ll show Monsieur Innocent here the _real_ Paris.”

Marius jumped up, “Actually, I’d rather go home.”

“Fine,” said Éponine, shrugging, “You still need someone to show you out.”

“Don’t worry,” said Gavroche, “’Ponine’s my sister. You can trust her.” Before Marius could object, he disappeared under the door, leaving him with Éponine.

She grinned, “Well, it looks like it’s just us, Monsieur.”

Five minutes later, the two of them were walking down a tunnel hand in hand. Éponine was quite happy about this arrangement. Marius was not.

The awkward silence went on for about twenty minutes before Marius finally cracked. He yanked his hand out of Éponine’s grip, “Why did you kiss me!?”

Éponine smirked, “Because you were cute.”

“Is that it?” said Marius, “Is that the only reason?”

Éponine seemed confused, “Well, yes. I’m sorry if you got offended, but that’s what a kiss is. When you’re attracted to someone, you kiss them.”

“That is not it!” said Marius, “A kiss is an expression of love, of the mutual understanding between two souls, not some…” he stopped himself. He knew some of his friends kissed others all the time. Courfeyrac boasted about his promiscuity. He shouldn’t insult them. “At least, it is for _me_.”

Éponine looked at him, her expression changing slightly, “God, you’re a romantic.”

“What’s wrong with that?” said Marius.

“It’s just, these things tend to end badly. Especially in the world we live in.”

“That doesn’t make it not worth it.”

Éponine looked at Marius sadly. “Let’s have this conversation somewhere else. Come on, we’re nearly at the exit.” She took his hand, gently this time, and led him through the darkness. They ended up having to crawl through a small sewer tunnel, but eventually emerged out of a pipe under a bridge into the pale light of dawn. Marius checked his watch. It was about six am. The early risers were beginning to walk about the streets.

Éponine sat down on a rock, “We’re fine here. None of the cameras cover this nook. I hang around here sometimes, when I want some fresh air,” she patted the ground next to her, “Well, come on. Sit down and explain how some innocent rich boy comes to become a rebel who believes in true love.”

Marius sat down, “Well, it all started three weeks ago…” He once again recounted his father’s story. Éponine listened in silence, but he noticed her expression change as he spoke, although he could not tell what she was feeling. When he came to the end, she spoke.

“But that was a sad ending. Your mother died in childbirth, your father was convinced to abandon you, and you spent your whole childhood unloved, only to be reunited with your father seconds before he died. How can that be worth it?”

“Because in the few years my parents knew each other, they made each other happy. The sad ending doesn’t invalidate the happiness they had,” he smiled, “And anyway, something good has come out of it. My father’s final sacrifice awakened me, and now I am free to love.”

Éponine laughed, but it wasn’t mocking like before, “So what, you’re going to find some cute girl and fall in love with her?”

Marius smiled, “I hope so. I’ll know her when I see her.”

Éponine looked sad when he said this. Before Marius could ask her about it, she changed the subject. “You know, it’s a small world.”

“What?”

“Well, y’see, that man who let your parents stay at his inn, Thérnadier?” she grinned, “He’s my father.”

“What?!” Marius jumped up, “Your father?!” he was shocked and delighted in equal measure, “’Ponine, you must take me to meet him!”

It was Éponine’s turn to be shocked, “What?!”

“I owe him my life!” said Marius, “If he hadn’t sheltered my parents, I would not have been born! I must meet him, at least to thank him. And he could tell me so much about what my parents were like!”

Éponine shook her head, “I don’t think that will be possible. Sorry.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, he doesn’t really like strangers,” said Éponine, “And he’s very busy. But I could pass on a message for you. And I could ask him about your parents and tell you!”

Marius was elevated, “Oh, thank you Éponine!” he searched around his pocket for his new phone, “Do you have a phone?”

“Of course I do,” Éponine pulled her phone out of her pocket, and they exchanged numbers. “I’ll text you when I have some time off.”

“What, do you have a job?” asked Marius.

Éponine laughed, “Kind of,” she looked around, “It’s gonna get quite busy soon, so I gotta go. I’ll see you round.” And with that, she disappeared back down the sewer pipe, leaving Marius alone in the city for the first time since he arrived.

She was right about things being busy. It was rush hour, so the streets were packed full of pedestrians making their way to work. Marius had been in this situation before; his commute to school every day consisted of this careful dance to avoid other pedestrians. But now he felt the perversity of the situation, after both his experience with the Amis and with the underground. Hundreds of people, carefully staying two steps away from everyone else, to avoid the merest brush of skin. They would do the same at work, and when they went home, they would shy away from their own children, so fearful they were of human touch. Marius wanted to believe that was just because they were scared of the police, but that wasn’t entirely true. Yes, it certainly was a factor. But there were no cameras in people’s homes, but they still followed the law there.

No, it was a poison of the mind. Years of schooling, of teaching that the simple touch of skin to skin was a monstrous crime, which poisoned people’s brains until they believed it, and chose to spend their lives separate from others. That was how this society was maintained. There were too many people to force compliance. The people must believe, and they did.

Marius suddenly felt very, very alone.

He carefully stepped out of the stream of traffic to the side of the road, and examined the street signs. He had memorised the map of Paris, and knew that he was very far away from Courfeyrac’s flat. But he was only a short walk away from another address he had memorised, but he had not had the chance to go to until now.

Ten minutes later, he was knocking on the door on Monsieur Mabeuf’s house.

The old man opened the door, and his face lit up as he saw Marius. He immediately gestured for him to come in, and closed the door behind him. “Marius, I had been so worried about you! I saw your face on the news, and every day was sure that I’d hear that you’d been arrested!”

Marius smiled, “No. I ran into some good people who’ve given me a lot of help.”

“I see,” said Mabeuf, “Well, that’s good. Come, sit down.”

They sat down in Mabeuf’s living room, and Mabeuf made coffee for both of them. “So, do you need any help with anything? I did say to contact me if you needed it.”

Marius shook his head, “No. My friends have set me up pretty well. In fact, I came here to thank you. It’s thanks to you that I found out the truth about my father. If you hadn’t come to me, I would have probably brushed off his last act as the act of a crazy person, and lived my life as normal.”

Mabeuf took a sip from his coffee, and looked Marius in the eye, “Are you sure that was for the best? A normal life is what your father wanted for you.”

Marius shook his head, “I know he wanted what was best for me, but what I had before wasn’t a _life_.” He looked up at Mabeuf, “How did you know my father anyway?”

“Oh, he just lived in a flat nearby, and I noticed how sad he was. We became friends and, well, I found out his story.”

“And you didn’t report him?” asked Marius, “Are you a liberal too?”

“Not exactly,” said Mabeuf, “I’m just old enough to remember a time before the Ban. And, well, I’m old. My wife is dead, and all my children have left home and don’t contact me anymore. I was lonely, and so was he.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Marius.

Mabeuf smiled, “Well, that’s something you can do for me, if you really want to thank me.”

“What, you mean keep you company?”

“You only have to come around for lunch a few times a week. Unless you’re busy all day.”

Marius shook his head, “No, I’ve got the opposite problem. No job, no school, so nothing to do all day. So yeah, I’ll visit you, as much as I can.” He thought for a second. “Well, maybe not too often. I don’t want the police to get suspicious of you.”

Mabeuf shook his head, “Don’t worry about that, Marius. I don’t think the police care too much about me. And anyway, I’m too old to be worried about dying. I’d rather my last few years be as happy as possible.”

Marius nodded. Somehow, he felt that Mabeuf was in the same mind as him. Suddenly, he felt rather drowsy. He had spent the whole night underground, and hadn’t slept since the morning before. “Umm, Monsieur? Can I ask a favour?”

“Anything?”

“Can I sleep here? I mean, I’ve been up all night, and it’s a few hours walk to my flat, so…”

Mabeuf smiled. “Of course. Come upstairs, you can sleep in my bed. It’s not as if I use it during the day.”

Mabeuf led him upstairs, and Marius collapsed on the bed, fully clothed. Just before he fell asleep, he felt the gentle brush of Mabeuf’s hand as his tucked him into bed.

-0-

Over the next few weeks, Marius settled into a kind of routine.

Most nights he would go to the Musain, sometimes with Courfeyrac, sometimes on his own when Courfeyrac was out at a party. Courfeyrac was trying to convince him to come with him, but was so far unsuccessful. Sometimes Marius would enter the basement through the café, other times through the tunnel. Gavroche continued giving his tours, although Marius was sure he had explored less than a tenth of the underground- and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to, considering the reputation of some of its dwellers.

The days he would either while away in Courfeyrac’s room, or he would go to Mabeuf’s house and spend the day enjoying the old man’s company (and his food.) Whenever Éponine was available, he would visit her under the bridge, and she would tell him stories of his parents, told to her by Thérnadier. He still wanted to meet the man, but she insisted that was impossible. They wouldn’t just talk about that though- she also took it upon herself to tutor him in how to avoid the police above ground, where the best camera-less locations were, and where you could find black market dealers. He still didn’t have much money, but from the other Amis he was learning skills that could earn you black currency- mostly computer programming to get past government censors.

So, in the two months since Marius left home, he had built a new life for himself. He had a few close encounters with the police, but they soon lost interest in him- there were plenty of other criminals to catch. Before he knew it, this life had become normal, and his old life in his grandfather’s mansion utterly foreign to him.

Then, something happened that changed his life once more.

It was as he was walking home from Mabeuf’s house, along the Rue Plumet, that he spotted something caught in one of the gates. These houses all had large back gardens, with high walls and gates on the back, leading to the back street that Marius now walked down. This particular garden was hideously overgrown, and Marius wondered if maybe if it was abandoned. Hanging from the gate was a thin silk scarf. Marius walked over to it, and reached out to grab it.

Instead, he grabbed a hand.

A teenage girl, a little younger than him, stood on the other side of the gate. She had long blonde hair, tied in a loose plait, pale white skin, and was utterly beautiful. She and Marius’ eyes met. For a few seconds, neither of them moved, so entranced they were by each other, and the feeling of their skin on each other.

Then, the girl realised they were touching, and jumped back with a yelp.

Marius looked at her. Her eyes were wide with fear. He glanced around, making sure none of the cameras could see them. He picked up the scarf. “Is this yours?” The girl nodded. Marius reached through the gate, “Here.”

The girl looked warily at him. She stepped forward. She took the scarf from him, but instead of walking away, she dropped the scarf to the ground. She raised her hand until it was barely an inch away from Marius’.

There seemed to be an understanding between them. Without words, without prompting, they clasped their hands together, threading their fingers together. Her skin was soft, and he could feel the warmth of her hand on his. Slowly, they raised their other arms, and clasped those hands together, until they were holding hands through the gate. He looked into her eyes, and saw the wonder of someone who was experiencing something for the first time.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, simply enjoying each other’s touch. Maybe it was seconds, maybe it was hours, it didn’t matter. In that moment, there was nothing in the world but the two of them.

Their peace was broken by a voice coming from the house. “Cosette, where are you?”

The girl who must be Cosette pulled her hands apart from Marius. “I’m outside Papa! I’ll be there in a minute,” she turned to Marius, “What’s your name?”

“Marius!” he said, “I’ll come back tomorrow, I swear it!”

The girl smiled, and then she was gone. Marius quickly hid behind the wall, as a man walked up to the gate, looking around suspiciously. He decided there was nothing there, and returned to the house.

Marius allowed himself to breathe again. This was the day his life truly began. The day he met the woman he was destined to love.

The day he met Cosette.


	5. Love and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise profusely for the delay in updating. I was on holiday for a week, and Game of Thrones is back on, so it took me a while for me to get back into my groove. But here it is!

“You’re late!” called Enjolras, as Marius climbed down the ladder to the Musain basement.

 “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. Truth be told, he had almost completely forgotten about the meeting that evening. His meeting Cosette had consumed his mind. He had spent all the hours since then thinking about her- her soft hands, her shy smile, her innocent eyes, her beautiful hair- even her _name_ sounded like the words of angels to him. There was no doubt.

 He was in _love_.

 “Marius?” said Joly, sounding worried, “Are you okay?” Everyone was staring at him, and there were a lot more people than usual- about two dozen.

 Marius blushed. He’d done it again. “Sorry. I zoned out for a minute there.”

 “Really?” said Joly, now sounding extra worried, “Are you sure you’re not ill?”

 “No, no, I just…” Marius smiled, “I met someone.”

 “You _met_ someone?” said Courfeyrac mischievously, immediately understanding his feelings, “Is it safe to assume that said someone made you feel strange and unfathomable feelings unlike any you have felt before?”

 Marius was blushing red now, “…Yes.”

 “Oh, Marius, it seems you _are_ ill,” said Jehan, smiling sweetly, “You have been struck down with lovesickness!”

 Suddenly, all the Amis (except for Enjolras and Combeferre) were peppering him with questions. Who was this individual who had caught his attention? Were they a boy or a girl? Were they beautiful? How far did the two of them go? Marius couldn’t answer most of the questions, and was embarrassed to admit how little he actually knew of Cosette. And some of the cruder questions he chose not to answer, since they were just _rude_.

 “Okay, everyone, quiet down,” said Enjolras, raising his voice, “We have serious matters to attend to.”

 “Oh, come on, Enjolras!” said Grantaire, raising his bottle, “Let us raise a glass to Marius’ rebellion! He is dealing a death blow to this corrupt government through his quest to fondle a young lady’s genitals!”

 “Grantaire!” Marius exclaimed angrily. He knew Grantaire could be crude, but his love for Cosette shouldn’t be mocked.

“I admire Marius’ rebellion, and hope he had good luck in it,” said Enjolras, “But, he had a slightly more pressing rebellion to attend to,” he looked at Marius, “Or have you forgotten that today is your first mission?”

 “Oh,” Marius felt ashamed at having forgotten, “Sorry.” He had been so excited to be finally allowed to go on a mission. Not that helping with the website, pamphlets and joining in discussions wasn’t satisfying- he just wanted to do more, and a small, selfish part of him wanted to get into danger.

 The missions weren’t _supposed_ to be dangerous. They were spreading propaganda, and so were either shoving pamphlets under doors or spraying graffiti. Apparently they used to do posters, but those were too easily ripped down- graffiti at least stayed up for a day or so. But even small things like this were illegal. If the police caught you, you would be arrested, and they were allowed to shoot you if you resisted arrest. There were the cameras too to worry about, which meant that about half their missions didn’t go unnoticed. So every mission was planned and organised like a military operation.

 First, they’d decide what areas to target. There were a couple of factors considered: the type of people living there, and whether they would be susceptible to their message; police presence, escape routes, and other, countless smaller factors. Some of this information could be got from hacking the government servers. Feuilly was especially good at this, since his childhood he had been trained to work for the government- skills he was now using against them. But most of the information they had to make educated guesses, and there was always a risk of getting it terribly, terribly wrong.

 Then there was the actual mission. Usually two or three teams would go out, with five people in each team. Some others would stay behind in the basement to provide support and warn if the police were coming. The teams would each go to their chosen area (always spread about the city). Three people would be carrying out the assigned tasks, while the other two stood guard. They would usually be out for about half an hour- an hour at most. Then, if the police hadn’t noticed them, they would split up and go back to their respective homes. If the police did notice them, they would alert the other groups, and run for their lives. Injured people would be taken back to the Musain via the underground, but otherwise they should do their best not to lead the police anywhere they could be tracked. One of the group’s casualties had been due to them being followed back to their street, and then surrounded by the police when they let their guard down.

 Marius was in Enjolras’ group, since he was a novice. Bahorel was also in the group for ‘extra security’, and since he was built like a bull he could definitely provide it. The other two were Emilie and Sophia, two experienced members. The other two groups were led by Courfeyrac and Jehan respectively. Courfeyrac had wanted to accompany Marius, but had been overruled. The other lieutenants were staying behind- Feuilly with his team to run the mission control, Combeferre and Joly to handle medical emergencies (with Bossuet and his and Joly’s girlfriend Musichetta to help), and Grantaire too… well, to this day Marius wasn’t sure what Grantaire’s role in the Amis was. It seemed sometimes he was there out of lack of anything better to do.

 They would leave at about two in the morning. It was August, so the sun would be up by six. It was important to do this under cover of darkness, but at the same time they wanted to minimise the time between delivering the message and their targets waking up and reading it. Marius had asked why they needed to go out, surely they could just mass- email this propaganda to thousands of people, rather than risk going out and delivering it on paper to much smaller groups. But Combeferre had explained to him that all the legal e-mails were secured by the government- any ‘inflammatory material’ would never reach it’s recipients. Hacking government databases and keeping their website up was hard enough- actually delivering information was nearly impossible. And there was a slightly sentimental aspect to this too. Delivering the message by hand was one step away from touching the recipient themselves.

 As the chosen hour arrived, Marius double checked his ‘equipment’. He was dressed entirely in dark clothes- not black, as that stuck out, but dark enough to blend into the shadows. He had a hat and a scarf hidden in his jacket pocket, but he wouldn't put them on until it was time for work. In his other pocket he had his phone, and his bag was stuffed with pamphlets. These ones had images of people touching, and poetry written by Jehan about the joys of physical love. Nothing too explicit- they didn’t want to shock their targets, but pique their curiosity. They told of how to access the website, and although they almost always got someone reporting it to the police and getting the website taken down, it was worth it if even one person was converted to the cause.

 Tucked into the back of Marius’ trousers was a gun. When Marius had first been handed one, he had tried to refuse. He had joined this cause to save people, not kill them. But Enjolras insisted that he learnt to use a gun. He had to be able protect his own life, and the lives of his friends. They could not save the people if they were dead. Enjolras had also told him that there would be a day where he would use a gun not just in self-defence. All this, the pamphlets, the podcasts, the websites- these were all just sowing the seeds for something that had yet to bloom. One day, when the time was right, the people would rise up against the system that oppressed them, and France would be free to love once more.

 They finally left a few minutes after two AM. As they entered the tunnels, Marius thought back to the figure that motivated him in all this.

  _Watch me, father_.

 But now it wasn’t just the memory of his father that drove him. Another figure, alive and waiting for him, sprung to his mind. Marius smiled.

  _Watch me, Cosette_.

-0-

 Their target area was a rather boring little suburb, full of cheap, single-person houses. The occupants were mostly low-wage workers, who had little to no contact with other people, as they worked from home. This made them both a harder and an easier audience- on the one hand, they had very little experience with other people, except for their experiences in school and with their ‘parents’, but this was also a blessing. Their attitudes were shaped by ignorance, and simply revealing to them an alternative could shatter their preconceptions, as it did to Marius.

 There were no police around, but Marius still found himself looking over his shoulder every five minutes. There were the cameras, of course, but as long as they stayed to the shadows they wouldn’t be seen, and the houses all had long enough driveways that the lights didn’t reach the doors. Also, Feuilly had assured him that the camera operators had the whole of Paris to watch- as long as they didn’t do anything obvious like touch each other, they should be far away by the time they were noticed, if they were at all.

 Enjolras and Bahorel were standing guard at each ends of the street. Marius, Emilie and Sophia each had about a dozen houses to do, and then they would move onto the next street. They hoped to do four streets that night.

 The first door Marius came up to, he was shaking so much with nervousness that he nearly didn’t get the pamphlet under the door. But as he continued down the street, it got easier and easier. With the silence and darkness, it was easy to focus entirely on his work, putting his faith in Enjolras and Bahorel to alert him to the police.

 Before he knew it, there were no pamphlets left, and Enjolras was signalling that it was time to go. Marius let out a sigh of relief, but also felt a surge of joy. He had survived this night, which meant that tomorrow (or more like later that day, since it was about 3am by now) he could see Cosette.

 Enjolras chose to walk him part of the way home, even though Marius insisted that he had made his way back to Courfeyrac’s before.

 “That was a lot less scary than you mad it out to be,” said Marius.

 Enjolras shook his head, “We were lucky tonight. No teams discovered. Usually at least one team is noticed, and more often than I would like someone gets injured. Still, it’s good that your first mission went smoothly. I wouldn’t want you to be scared off.”

 “I’m not going to be scared off,” said Marius, “Now more than ever.”

 Enjolras smiled, “Because of Cosette, right?”

 Marius’ eyes widened, “Wait, I thought you didn’t care about her?”

 “I just wanted you to focus on the mission instead of mooning about her,” said Enjolras, “And now the mission is over. I have no objections to you having a girlfriend. If I did, I’d have to throw out half of the Amis,” he looked at Marius, “Anyway, it’s an extra reason for you to fight. I can fight well enough with the abstract as a motivation, but some people need something solid.”

 “She’s not just a motivation,” said Marius, slightly angrily.

 “I don’t mean that as an insult,” said Enjolras, “After all, you cannot love her openly unless the government is overthrown, right? So that’s a motivation.” They were at Courfeyrac’s flat now. Enjolras stepped back, “I wish you all the luck in the world in winning her heart.” And he was gone.

-0-

 “Have a nice day, Papa!”

 Cosette threw her arms around her father, and he lifted her up easily. “And you stay out of trouble,” he said, setting her down.

 Cosette pouted, “Papa, you’ve said that to me every morning for years. I _always_ stay out of trouble.”

 “I know,” said her father, “But still, you have to be careful. If you become complacent, you’ll make mistakes, and with one mistake it’s all over.”

 “Yes, Papa,” said Cosette. She hugged him again, “I love you Papa.”

 Her father hugged her back, his strong arms encircling her, “I love you too, Cosette.”

 He drew out of the hug, and Cosette watched as he closed the door behind him and drove off to work. She felt very guilty about lying to him, especially since it was the first lie she’d ever told him. She meant to get into very big trouble.

 As soon as she could no longer see her father’s car, she went out into the garden. The trees were so overgrown that you could not see into the garden from outside, but beams of light still made their way through. Cosette sat down under one of the trees, in a position where she could see through the gate but a person outside could not. She made herself comfortable, and waited.

 She had hardly been able to sleep the previous night, so excited she was about Marius. She had only ever touched her father and Uncle Fauchelevant (the Thernadiers didn’t count), no-one her own age. Father wouldn’t allow it. Father didn’t even allow her _outside_. She couldn’t hate him for it though. He provided her with all the clothes, all the toys and all the comforts she could want. She could sit outside in the garden if she wanted fresh air. All the time he wasn’t at work he spent with her, talking with her, teaching her and simply holding her. Father loved her, and that was why she couldn’t go out in public. She was an illegal child. If the police stopped her and Papa, and asked for their identification, they would both be arrested, and would never see each other again. There was also the worry about what would happen to her. The government’s official policy for ‘natural’ children was life imprisonment in an institution, but there were rumours that they were just killed instead. Cosette knew which option she’d prefer.

 So she knew why her father was strict with her. But still, it was so lonely with only him for company, especially after Uncle Fauchelevant died. And, as she had grown into a teenager, she had had other feelings, feelings that she had never told her father about, that she could not quite explain. But looking on the internet at pictures of other people, especially young men, had convinced her that she needed to meet people her age. She knew that asking her father would be pointless, and she didn’t want to upset him.

 But now she had met Marius. At first she had been terrified, convinced for a second that he would tell the police, but then he had reached out to her, and they had _touched_. It was such a wondrous feeling, and from that moment she had known that Marius was special. She had stayed up all night thinking about him, and those unexplainable feelings had come back to her. She wondered if it was just because she was lonely, if she would have felt this way about anyone else who had appeared at that gate. It didn’t matter. Fate had decreed that Marius appeared at that gate at that time. And now, she waited for him to return.

 The hours passed. She wondered after a while if she had been a fool. If he would really return. But he had promised, and Cosette knew deep in her soul that he wouldn’t lie.

 Shortly after noon, he returned.

 Cosette spotted him walking nervously up to the gate. He looked exhausted, his clothes and hair askew, but just as handsome as he was the previous day. He stood for several seconds, trying to decide whether to call out or not. Cosette made sure he didn’t need to. She stood up, and walked up to the gate.

 For several seconds the two of them just looked at each other. Cosette was the one who broke the silence. “Would you like to come in?”

 Marius stumbled over his words, “Um, yes, of course, um, if you don’t mind…”

 Cosette giggled, and felt relieved. He was just as nervous as she was. She unlocked the back gate, and Marius walked in. “Would you like to sit down?”

 Marius nodded, and Cosette gestured to her seat under the tree. The two of them sat down next to each other, but not touching.

 For a long, awkward minute, they sat in silence.

 Then, they both burst out laughing.

 “I’m sorry, Cosette,” said Marius, in between giggles, “I just have no idea what we’re supposed to _do_.”

 “Me neither,” said Cosette, “I suppose we could start by holding hands.”

 “We could.”

 They both edged their hands to each other. Slowly, surely, they entwined their hands as they had done the previous day. For a long time they sat like that, content in each other’s warmth.

 “Was yesterday your first time?” asked Marius.

 Cosette shook her head, “No. My Papa hugs me all the time.”

 “What?” Marius asked, astonished, “Is he a liberal?”

 “Kind of,” said Cosette. She suddenly felt embarrassed. Should she tell him the truth? Would he think less of her? Should she even share such a secret with someone she hardly knew? Father would be furious.

 She swallowed her doubts. She had trusted Marius this far. “I… well, the truth is… I’m natural born.”

 Instead of shock, or fear, Marius lit up, “So am I!”

 Cosette was shocked. What a turn of fate this was! It wasn’t just two people who did not fear human touch that had met at the gate, but two who were born from it. Cosette beamed, “That’s amazing!”

 “I know,” said Marius, “So, I guess your father is rich enough to bribe someone to alter your records.”

 “No, actually.” Marius gave her a questioning look, and she continued, “My father… well, he’s not my _biological_ father. My biological mother died, and he took me in.” This wasn’t the whole story, but that was too depressing. Cosette didn’t want to upset him.

 “Oh,” said Marius, “Well, my mother died giving birth to me, and my grandfather forced my father to give me up, and then doctored my records so I was official. I never even found out until about two months ago. So I guess you’re not official then.”

 “No,” said Cosette, “But Papa is. He works away from home so the house doesn’t get inspections, and I stay at home all day. It sounds really stupid, but…” Cosette felt really embarrassed, “I haven’t been out of this house or garden for five years.”

 Marius’ eyes widened, “Five _years_?”

 Cosette shook her head, “I don’t hate it! It’s to keep me safe, and Papa gives me lots of things, so…”

 “But don’t you get lonely?”

 Cosette smiled shyly, “Yes… I get very lonely,” she looked up into Marius’ eyes, “But now I’ve met you. So I’m not lonely anymore.”

 Marius looked back at her. “I have friends outside of here. Many friends, who have taught me how to love. But what I feel for them is nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

 Cosette smiled, “Tell me about them. Your friends.”

 For the rest of the afternoon, Marius spoke. He talked about the Amis, although he did not give out the Musain’s location. He explained all of their different quirks, their personalities, and what he loved about them. In response, Cosette talked about her father, and what he meant to her. As the hours wore on, they slowly moved closer and closer together. It was almost unnoticeable, the way that Cosette slowly leant on Marius shoulder, and Marius curled around her, and they went from holding hands to holding each other. The more time they spent together, the more they became at ease with each other, and eventually, Cosette was lying in Marius’ embrace, her head resting on his shoulder, and Marius buried his face in her hair, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist. Their hands were still entwined.

 So entranced they were by each other that they completely lost track of time, and they only realised how late it was when Cosette heard her father’s car pull into the driveway.

 The second she heard that, she panicked. She jumped out of Marius arms. “That’s my father home! You need to go, now!”

 Marius scrambled to his feet. He had no desire for Cosette to get in trouble. But there was one small thing he wanted, that he had not yet asked for, believing they had all the time in the world.

 “May I have one small thing before I go?”

 “If it’s small, yes!” said Cosette, flustered.

 “A kiss?”

 Cosette paused. She knew what a kiss was. Her father had kissed her many times, on the forehead, on the cheeks, but never on the lips. That was for someone special.

 Someone like Marius.

 “Quickly, then.”

 Marius leaned forward, and placed a kiss on Cosette’s lips. It barely lasted a second, and was awkward in its shyness. But it was so unlike anything Cosette had ever experienced, and she felt a fluttering in her stomach as he kissed her. It was that unexplainable feeling again.

 Marius dashed out of the back gate, promising to come back tomorrow and earlier this time. Cosette locked the gate behind him, just as she heard her father entering the garden.

 “Cosette?” he called, and she answered.

 “I’m here, Papa.”

 Her father smiled in relief. He always did that when he came home, as if he was sure she would disappear the second he took his eyes off her. It had been like that since he saved her. “You look happy.”

 Cosette smiled. “That’s because I am happy, Papa.”


	6. A World That Is New That Is Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the update delay again. Holidays are over, I'm back at Uni and it's exam season, so I'll probably only be able to manage one chapter a week, and even that might be a stretch.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Marius gently pressed a kiss on Cosette’s neck. She giggled as he slowly continued up her neck. As he came face to face with her, she grabbed his face, stopping him. Slowly, she kissed him all over his face.

 “What are you doing?” asked Marius, in between kisses.

 “I’m trying to kiss every one of your freckles,” Cosette replied.

 There was a short pause. Then both of them burst into laughter.

 The weeks since their first meeting had been bliss. Every day, about an hour after Cosette’s father left her home, Marius would come, and they would stay together until he returned.

 They spent this time in different ways. Sometimes they would talk, about everything and anything. Marius tended to have more to talk about, since he had the Amis meetings to wax lyrical about, and Cosette had a hard time keeping up with stories about her father. She refused point blank to talk about her life before she met her father. Marius decided not to press the issue; he could tell that whatever happened, it was too sad to repeat now. For that reason too he had not talked much about his past- either his lonely time with his grandfather, or his parent’s time before he was born. Both were sad stories, and he did not want sadness to intrude in his happiness with Cosette.

 The only sadness they allowed in their meetings was in listening to the _Voice of the ABC_ podcast. Cosette had wanted so badly to hear Marius friends speak, so he relented. They were still working through the backlog- two years’ worth of discussions on history, politics and all kinds of things. Marius also made a habit of bringing banned films for them to watch. Cosette took a real liking to the early 21st century romance films, and they would curl up in Cosette’s bed watching them.

 Cosette had allowed him into the house after a few days of them sitting outside; on the condition he didn’t touch anything outside of her room. Her room took up the entire attic, and you had to climb up a ladder to get there. This was so if a government inspector came round Cosette could hide up there until he was gone- although that had never happened. It helped that her father went out for work- working from home meant you were under far more suspicion. Still, it wasn’t just government inspectors Cosette had to worry about. If her neighbours noticed her presence, they could easily sell her and her father out. Luckily, they were _Parisians_. Parisians could live for years next to others and never notice they existed. As long as Cosette stayed quiet, she could live unnoticed.

 Cosette’s room was as comfortable as her father could make it. It had a large bed, and was stuffed to the brim with all the luxuries money could buy. She had the newest, most advanced computer, she had dozens of cuddly toys and dolls, and downstairs the fridge was full of food. Her father had made her imprisonment as comfortable as possible. Still, it was an imprisonment, and Marius could tell that it grated on her. She was a bird trapped in a cage, yearning to be free.

 Maybe that was why Marius had fallen for her. He knew as well what it was like to be trapped in a cage. True, his cage was different- Cosette at least had had her father’s touch as a comfort, where Marius had had none. But both of them had been denied _something_ by the society they lived in- Marius the touch of another human being, and Cosette her freedom and the companionship of someone her age. So now both of them were determined to make up for it.

 They would spend hours simply touching each other. They liked holding hands the most. Hugging, too. One day they spent their entire eight hours together lying on the bed in a tangle of limbs. They would also spend inordinate amounts of time kissing. On the lips, cheeks, forehead, neck, hands shoulders, feet… they hadn’t got under the clothes yet, but they saw no need to rush. Inside their sanctuary, they had all the time in the world.

 However, Marius couldn’t quite ignore the fact that Cosette had not left this sanctuary for years, and while he did not want to make her sad, he did feel it was his duty to liberate her in other ways. He had talked to her about maybe telling her father about their relationship, but she had told him he would never approve. So they would have to do this without his knowledge.

 “Cosette?”

 “Hmm?” said Cosette, turning to look at him. They were lying in bed, Cosette’s head resting on Marius’ shoulder, their hands intertwined.

 “I… I would like to take you outside.”

 “Outside?” said Cosette, confused, “But I thought you said it was horrible outside.”

 “Well, it is, but… but you said you want to meet my friends, and they can hardly all come here.”

 Cosette rolled over, so she was lying on top of Marius, facing him, “Are we going to see your friends?”

 “Not right now, no. But you’ll need some practice in going outside.”

 There was a long silence. Marius could tell by the look on Cosette’s face that she was wrestling between her fear and her curiosity, her desire for safety and her desire for freedom. Finally she spoke.

 “Alright. Let’s go.”

-0-

 Cosette shivered, even though it was so hot she didn’t need a coat. The last time she had been out of the house was five years ago, when Uncle Fauchelevant died and they moved houses- and then she had been in the car for the entire move. So the last time she had _walked_ outside would have been eight years ago, when father had found her. She had been a different girl back then. Had she become softer in her father’s care?

 Marius hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear. “Remember, stay next to me, but _no_ _touching_.”

 “I know.”

 “I mean it. One touch and we’re dead. Or separated forever.”

  _Which is the same as being dead_ , Cosette thought. She kissed Marius on the lips. “Let’s go.”

 The two of them exited the house, and walked down to the back of the garden. Carefully, Marius opened the gate, and beckoned Cosette forward. “After you.”

 Cosette took a deep breath. Stepping out of this gate was stepping into a world that father had done his best to have her leave behind. Just walking out there would put her at risk. She wasn’t meant to _exist_ \- if the police stopped her, she would have to run, and if they caught her… she calmed her nerves. Marius was in the same position, yet he did not hide away. She was afraid, but she could conquer her fear. She stepped over the threshold.

 Her first thought was that this was not nearly as scary as she imagined. She and Marius walked side by side down the street, about a metre apart, and although she could see the cameras, it wasn’t especially terrifying. But then she remembered that this was a backstreet. When they got onto the main street, she would have to be more vigilant.

 Sure enough, the main street was much scarier. It was about two in the afternoon, so the streets weren’t too busy, however Cosette couldn’t stop herself from shaking. There were more cameras here, and she could see police officers and robots all over the place.

 “Marius, I’m sixteen,” she whispered to him, “Won’t they notice I’m not in school?”

 “Just walk around like you own the place,” said Marius, “That’s what Courfeyrac told me.”

 Cosette tried, but it was difficult. She found herself looking over her shoulder every minute, at the cameras, at the police officers, at the other pedestrians. It was a hot day, but that wasn’t why she was sweating. This whole situation had her feeling so exposed, in a way that she hadn’t been since those few weeks after father saved her. The walls of her house on the Rue Plumet- or even the ones off Thernadier’s inn- may have imprisoned her, but they also protected her. Here, the eyes of the law were upon her.

 The worst part though, was that she wanted to cling onto Marius for safety, or at least hold his hand, but she couldn’t. His gentle voice encouraging her gave no comfort. She wanted his calming touch to strengthen her- or her father’s touch, or _anyone’s_. A sudden feeling of horror welled up in her. For seventeen years this had been Marius’ life. No-one to hold onto when he was afraid, no-one to catch him when he fell. Seventeen years of cold distance. She had vague recollections of that same kind of loneliness, but that hadn’t been from _lack_ of touch. She looked around her, at all the people walking down the street. Had they all had the same experience?  All the people in this street, in this city, in this _country?_

She stopped walking.

 Marius turned to her, “What’s wrong, Cosette? Come on, you’ll draw attention.”

 “Take me back. Take me back to the house.”

 “What?”

 “I can’t do this. Take me back,” she gripped the skirts of her dress, desperately resisted the urge to grip Marius, “Please, take me back.”

 Marius opened his mouth to try and convince her otherwise, but then he noticed a police officer looking at them suspiciously. “Ok, follow me.” He led her into a shop and out the back, and took a rather circuitous route back to her house.

 The second that they were through the gate, Cosette threw herself into Marius’ arms. Her whole body shook with tears, while Marius gently stroked her head, whispering that she was brave, she was strong, that she did her best. Cosette didn’t feel brave or strong. She felt very small and weak, facing something far stronger and scarier than she could possibly handle.

 Eventually, after some time, she stopped crying enough to speak. She looked up at Marius resolutely.

 “Take me to meet your friends.”

-0-

 “You want to go to a party?”

 “Yes.”

 “With everyone else?”

 “Yes.”

 “And you want to take Cosette with you?”

 “Yes.”

 “Why?” Courfeyrac was confused. Marius had been very uninterested in going to parties, which Courfeyrac put down to being intimidated. Now he wanted to bring Cosette too?

 “Well, I wanted to introduce Cosette to you guys,” said Marius, “But I didn’t want it to be in a public environment. She...”

 “She can’t handle the stress?” Courfeyrac shrugged, “Understandable, I suppose. She has lived in an attic most of her life,” he laughed, “I’m actually kind of jealous. To be able to have almost constant freedom to touch someone, even in such a limited environment…”

 “Hey!” said Marius angrily, “She can’t even go outside out of fear of being arrested!”

 Courfeyrac patted Marius’ shoulder in apology, “I know, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just sick of having to _act_ all day. I’ll see what I can do about party tickets, although you’ll have to talk to everyone else at the meeting. Some of the others aren’t huge fans of parties.”

 Marius smiled, “Thanks, Courfeyrac.”

 “You know, you could just have her meet us underground. I mean, the Musain basement is out of bound for security reasons, but surely some tunnel…”

 “No,” said Marius, “I won’t put Cosette in danger.”

 Courfeyrac smiled sadly, “You already are”

-0-

 Courfeyrac managed to arrange tickets rather quickly, and in less than a week, he and Marius were in Cosette’s garden, at about ten pm, waiting for her to come out.

 “They tend not to give much notice on parties,” said Courfeyrac, “Five days maximum. We don’t get the location until twelve hours beforehand. Less chance of it leaking that way.”

 “Was it difficult to get tickets?” asked Marius.

 “Well, not for me. I’m well known on the circuit, at least among the organisers. Since I vouched for you, it’s all good. Tickets cost a pretty penny though.”

 “I’ll pay you back, I swear-“

 Courfeyrac laughed, “Don’t worry, Marius. Anyway, you’re already freeloading on me. Your programming job isn’t getting you as much money as you’d like, is it?”

 Marius shook his head, “No. I doesn’t help that I refuse to do any immoral work.”

 “Immoral?”

 “Like helping people steal,” said Marius, “I may be a criminal, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my principles.”

 “Well, good for you,” said Courfeyrac. He looked up, “Oh, is that her?”

 Marius looked up. Cosette had left the house, “Yes, that’s her.”

 Courfeyrac grinned, “You told me she was pretty, but I didn’t think this pretty.”

 “Hands off,” said Marius angrily.

 “Hey, you won’t deny me a hug, will you?” he waved at Cosette, “So, you must be the beautiful Cosette I’ve been hearing about.”

 Cosette smiled shyly, “And I’m guessing you’re Courfeyrac.”

 Courfeyrac grinned roguishly, “My reputation precedes me,” he held out his arms, “Hug?”

 Cosette paused for a moment, and then gave Courfeyrac a friendly hug. She smiled as they pulled apart, “You’re the fourth person I’ve hugged.”

 Courfeyrac laughed, “Well, hopefully you’ll get a lot more hugs once the night is out. Come on, we better get going. Wouldn’t want to be late!”

 “Of course,” said Cosette. She looked back at her house, “We’ll be back before its light, won’t we?”

 “Oh yes,” said Courfeyrac, “These parties tend to close between three and four. Plenty of time to get back before your father wakes up.”

 Cosette fidgeted, “I left a note for him in case I don’t come back on time.”

 “Don’t worry,” said Courfeyrac, “If this party does get busted, we’ll get you out in no time. You’re in safe hands,” he walked through the gate, gesturing for the others to follow.

 Marius let Cosette go first and followed up behind her. He checked his waistband to make sure his gun was still there. The three of them made their way through the streets, empty except for late-night workers coming home. Every time they saw a police officer, Courfeyrac led them down another road. Cosette was less panicked than before, but still Marius noticed her trembling, and he wanted to touch her shoulder and tell her it’s alright. But even in the darkness he couldn’t.

 It took them about an hour to find the place, which was on the outskirts of town. It was a large empty building, probably an old factory. There were electric fences with ‘no entry’ plastered all over it.

 “This way,” said Courfeyrac. He led them around the perimeter fence, until he stopped by a rubbish bin. “Here.”

 “What’s here?” asked Marius.

 “The entrance,” said Courfeyrac. He gestured to the cameras, “This is one of the three spots where the cameras don’t reach. We just have to crawl under here.”

 “Under an electric fence.” Said Marius incredulously.

 “Yes,” said Courfeyrac, “Don’t worry, look-“ he pointed to a hole in the bottom of the fence, “They’ve already set it up for us.” He got down on his knees, and carefully slithered through the hole.

 With some trepidation, Marius and Cosette crawled after him. They dusted themselves off, and followed Courfeyrac, who took them to the side of the building, underneath a veranda. Suddenly, a person emerged from the shadows. He was a well-built man, and Marius gulped when he realised he had a gun in his hand.

 Courfeyrac was unperturbed. He pulled the three tickets out of his pocket, and handed them to man. The man looked at them carefully, then put them into his pocket and held out his hand. Courfeyrac shook his hand, and gestured for Marius and Cosette to do the same, which they did. The man then whispered some things to Courfeyrac, and sent them on their way.

 Courfeyrac led the three of them to a door, which was unlocked. They entered, and finally Marius spoke.

 “What was that about?”

 “Oh, that was just the bouncer. He makes sure we’ve all got tickets, and makes sure we’re all on the same team. It’s remarkably similar to our thing with Louison, don’t you think?” Courfeyrac laughed, “It’s actually quite funny when you think about. The government is so paranoid about people getting ‘infected’ that they can’t actually spy on us, since we make sure everyone gets touchy-feely before we let them in anywhere. Any government agent who tried to spy on us would end up in an institution for years- if we didn’t successfully convert them.”

 “Why did he have a gun?” asked Cosette, a lot more shaken.

 “In case the police show up,” said Courfeyrac, now more serious, “That happens quite often. These parties tend to have about a hundred people attending, so while we’re not going to get snitches, there’s still a greater risk of someone getting caught and spilling the beans to the police. That’s why these parties have a different location each time. Of course, there’s a plus point to this. People don’t use names down here, and cameras are banned, so if we do get busted and someone gets caught, they can’t sell out everyone.”

 “Wow,” said Cosette, astonished, “This is all so… serious.”

 “Yeah, it’s almost as serious as our meetings,” said Courfeyrac, “But that’s just the world we live in. Here we are,” they had come to a door. Courfeyrac smiled, “Let me welcome you to the hidden world that all this seriousness is to protect.” He opened the door.

 The first thing that Marius had noticed was the music. He had heard music before, but none so… moving as this. The second thing he noticed was the amount of people- there must have been at least eighty there. The third thing he noticed was the outfits. Generally clothes that showed a lot of skin were banned, since it could ‘inflame unnatural passions’. These people however were happily showing off as much skin as possible.

 The final thing he noticed was how everyone was touching. Whether lying or sitting on the rugs and cushions scattered over the floor, or dancing, everyone was touching another person. It wasn’t just a choice either, Marius could feel it in the air and see it in their actions, a kind of desperate _need_ to touch another person.

 “Hey, you three! Over here!” called a voice. The three of them looked over, and saw the rest of Les Amis sitting on a bunch of cushions and each other. They went over, and sat down with the group. Courfeyrac lay his head down on Combeferre’s lap, who himself was leaning on Enjolras. Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were in a similar position. Jehan had his arms draped around Bahorel, who also had Feuilly’s head on his lap and Grantaire dozing on his shoulder.

 Cosette and Marius ended up sitting down with Cosette lying in Marius’ arms, their hands and legs intertwined.

 Enjolras spoke first, “You must be Cosette. Marius has told us a lot about you.”

 “And he’s told me a lot about you,” said Cosette. Immediately, she stood up, hugging each of them and saying their names, identifying every one correctly. All of them laughed at this.

 “Marius, you said she was beautiful, you didn’t say she was clever too,” said Jehan jokingly.

 Cosette looked up at Marius, fake-annoyed, “You said I wasn’t clever?”

 Marius blushed, “I didn’t say you weren’t clever, I just…”

 “Oh, give up Marius,” said Bossuet, “She’s got you there.”

 “That she has,” said Musichetta, “So, what do you think of this place so far?”

 “The party?” said Cosette, “It’s…” she looked around the room, lost for words, “It’s… it’s amazing. I had thought that me and my father were the only people like us in the world, but look at all the people here!”

 “It’s not just here,” said Enjolras, “There are plenty of people who have awakened in this city, and that’s not counting the rest of the country.”

 “There’s even more that haven’t,” said Grantaire.

 Cosette looked down, “I know,” she said, sadly.

 The other Amis looked at her in pity, “We heard about what happened,” said Combeferre, “With you going out.”

 “Yes,” said Cosette, “It was very… I mean, there’s a whole world like that out there, and I didn’t even _know_.”

 “Don’t sweat it,” said Bahorel, patting her on the shoulder, “I had that same reaction when I was growing up.”

 “Oh yeah, you said your parents were liberals,” said Marius.

 “Yup,” said Bahorel, “Rich too, so they could afford a house in the countryside with tonnes of land. So I had miles to just mess around with my siblings. Imagine my shock when I had to go to school and not touch _anyone_.”

 “I’m still shocked that you managed to avoid getting arrested until now,” said Joly.

 Bahorel laughed, “Well, having rich parents does help you out of some jams. And police can’t catch you if you punch them. Still, yeah. It’s stressful.”

 “It must be such a relief for there to be places like this,” said Cosette, “Where you can be free.”

 The rest of the Amis nodded sagely. Marius suddenly realised how lucky he and Cosette were, in a way. Yes, they were at constant risk of arrest. But being illegal gave you a sort of freedom. You no longer needed to play by the rules. Marius could spend all his days with other people, whether it was Mabeuf, Gavroche, Éponine or Cosette, while Courfeyrac and the others had to go to Uni and act as if they bought into the propaganda.

 Cosette was speaking again, “I do wonder though, the government must know there are parties like this going on, and they only happen at night. So why don’t they just have a curfew?”

 “They did, historically,” said Combeferre, “In the early years of the Ban, laws were incredibly strict. I mean, they still are. But recently they’ve been cutting down on things like surveillance cameras and police patrols, and there hasn’t been a curfew for decades.”

 “Because there doesn’t need to be one anymore,” said Feuilly, “We’re the third generations of kids born into the world of the Ban. Very few come from two-parent families, so from the very beginning they don’t get any examples of close affection between people, never mind physical affection. They go to a school where they are taught that physical contact is dangerous and perverse, and the entire media supports that. They may well go through their entire lives never even seeing someone touch another. The government doesn’t need curfews to enforce the law, the people do it to themselves.”

 “It’s worse than that,” said Combeferre, “I read an article in the news this morning. About fifty per cent of children born this year were born in government orphanages.”

 A loud ‘what?!’ went around the group, but Feuilly’s was the loudest. Cosette didn’t understand. “What’s a government orphanage?”

 “Hell,” said Feuilly, utterly without irony, “Its part of a plan from the government to completely remove the physical connection between mother and child, and have a child whose only parent is the state.  They take egg and semen donations from citizens, and the foetus grows in an artificial womb. The resulting child is then raised in an orphanage, almost entirely by robots, with a few human supervisors who are, of course, entirely loyal to the government’s ideology,” he sighed, “It used to be that the orphanages were for children who were meant for government work only, but they’ve expanded it in the last few decades. I suppose their aim is in the future for every child to be raised by the state, ensuring a perfectly loyal populace,” he let out a hollow laugh, “Not that it does.”

 “What do you mean?” asked Cosette.

 Feuilly raised his eyebrows, “Marius didn’t tell you? I was born in one of those orphanages. I was meant to become some loyal government drone. But when we were given images of touching to study, supposedly to explain why it was wrong, I got curious. I did research. And in the end I decided the government was wrong. Once I realised that, I knew there was no way I could work for the government. They would find me out immediately, and then I’d be in prison for the rest of my life. So I deliberately botched my exams, ended up getting a crappy programming job, and well. Here I am.”

  Cosette was speechless. “Oh god. That… that must have been awful.”

 “Yeah, it was,” said Feuilly, “But there’s one ray of sunshine. If I could rebel in that situation, so can everyone else. My experience proves that they’re wrong. We’re not the unnatural ones. We’re the ones who will win.”

 There was a long silence while everyone took that statement in. Courfeyrac ended up breaking the silence, “Well, that was depressing. How about we cheer things up with a little dancing?”

 This was met with nods of approval from everyone, although Enjolras and Combeferre stayed sitting down. Marius and Cosette looked at each other.

 “Shall we?” said Marius.

 Cosette smiled, “Of course.”

 They stood up, arm in arm, and joined the dancers. The music changed to a slower, more romantic piece. Neither of them were quite sure what to do, but by copying the others, and with a bit of encouragement from Courfeyrac, the worked it out. Marius put one arm around Cosette’s waist, and the other held her hand, and they slowly twirled and swayed to the music, their bodies pressed closely against each other. Marius glanced at the other dancers. Joly and Bossuet were taking it in turns dancing with Musichetta. Feuilly and Courfeyrac danced with each other, and Courfeyrac’s hands went quite a bit lower than Marius thought was appropriate. Bahorel meanwhile had lifted Jehan up in his arms, and Marius would have worried for the little poet if Bahorel had not been doing so with ease.

 The song was over seemingly as soon as it begun. The next song was a much faster number.

 “Come on, Marius, there’s no need to be scared.”

 “I might step on your feet though. I’m not much of a dancer.”

 Cosette pouted, “So? I’ve never danced since before today, but I’m still trying.”

 Another voice called out, one neither of them recognised, “Hey, if you’re boyfriend isn’t dancing, I’ll dance with you!” A man swaggered over, leering at Cosette.

 “I don’t want to dance with you,” said Cosette, a little fear in her voice. She stepped back, but the man came closer, looming over her.

 “Come on, girl. I want to dance with you!” He grabbed Cosette by the arm.

 Cosette screamed.

 Before Marius could do anything, he saw Bahorel march over, his fist raised.

 And he _punched_ the man in the face.

 Marius had seen Bahorel punching, but that was only practicing. This was the real thing. He watched as the creepy man crumpled under the blow, staggering backwards, and collapsing on the ground. It made him feel slightly sick.

 “She said she didn’t want to dance with you, creep,” said Bahorel.

 Marius turned to see if Cosette was alright, but she wasn’t beside him. Desperately he looked around, and saw she was _running_ for the door.

 “Cosette, wait!” he yelled, and went after her.

 He didn’t have to go far. Not very far down the corridor, he found her slumped against the wall, crying.

 Gently, he sat down next to her, and touched her shoulder. “Cosette?”

 She jumped, “Marius?”

 “Are you alright?”

 “I…” she shook her head, “No. No, I’m not.”

 “Was it that guy grabbing you?” asked Marius, “Or seeing Bahorel punch someone?”

 “Both.” Cosette turned, and looked into Marius’ eyes. “Marius, can you promise me something?”

 “Anything.”

 “Promise me you won’t punch anyone.”

 “What?” Marius wasn’t sure what to say, “Cosette, that’s a bit…”

 “ _Promise me._ Or we can’t be together.”

 Marius looked into her eyes. He could see this was about more than the sight today. It was something deeper, older, and he couldn’t help thinking back to her refusal to talk about her past before her father. He put his arm around her.

 “I promise.”


	7. Tainted Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains references to rape and child abuse, and has minor sexual content. There will be worse stuff in later chapters.
> 
> Apologies for the delay again, exams.

Éponine pressed _send_ on her phone. It had been three weeks since Marius had last messaged her. At first she had just put it down to him being busy, and since she was also busy, it hadn’t bothered her. But three weeks were a long time for him to not contact her, especially since he had been so interested in her.

  _No_ , she thought, _Not me. My father._ And the only reason Marius was interested in her father was because of his father. He thought that through her he could find out more about him, and somehow get closer to the man, despite him being dead.

 It had been easy for her to spin stories about George Pontmercy. After all, there was no way of proving her wrong. She told Marius what he wanted to hear: that his father was a good, romantic man, who was devoted to Marius’ mother. It was exactly the sort of romantic nonsense that Marius would love.

 She never even considered telling her father about Marius, or asking about George Pontmercy. At best he would not care, at worst… Her father was a man who remembered everything, and held debts important (although only debts _to_ him. Debts her father owed other people he did his best to avoid). If he discovered Marius was the son of a previous patron, he would stop at nothing to wring everything he could from him, and knowing Marius he would probably give it happily.

 That was the thing that Éponine found so attractive about Marius, even though her every instinct rebelled against it. He had walked into her life full of dreams and ideals that had been crushed in her long ago. The cynical part of her was sure that soon he would be crushed too, and he would end just as twisted as everyone in this sorry world- or die. But there was another part of her; the little girl who had listened intently as her mother had told her tales of princes and princesses and happily-ever-afters (her mother hadn’t told her such stories in years). That part of her wanted to protect Marius from all the darkness of the world, to shelter his innocence, to allow one little light to stay untainted.

 And, maybe, for him to carry her off and save her from her misery.

 So, yes, she had lied to him about her father and his father. Where was the harm in that? If it meant he smiled at her, and wanted to spend time with her, what was wrong about it? He didn’t need to know the truth. The truth was dark and ugly.

 She wondered if messaging him smacked of desperation. After all, he had been quite dramatic in his objections when he kissed her. Of course that had been a kiss, and his first one at that. She had not understood back then just how untouched he was. This was a text. He couldn’t possibly object to a text.

 She waited for his reply. It came several hours later. Quickly she opened it.

  _Sorry I havnt been calling. I met a rly pretty girl, and now shes my gf! Her names Cosette! Do you want to meet her? y/n_

 Éponine felt her heart break as she read this. True, Marius hadn’t actually shown any romantic interest in her, but he had spent so much time with her, and she thought that maybe, in the future, it could develop into something. But now this crushed her dreams.

 The worst thing though wasn’t the fact that Marius had a girlfriend. It was the identity of that girlfriend. The name might just be a coincidence, but in her heart Éponine knew it was the same girl.

  _Cosette._

-0-

 It wasn’t stalking.

 Ok, it was stalking. But Éponine had to be sure. She had to know if Cosette was _Cosette_.

 Which was why she was hiding outside Marius’ flat at seven in the morning. Well, she was partly hiding from the police and the cameras, but also from Marius. She could have answered his text and asked to see Cosette- he would have invited her, she knew it- but she had no desire to see her, and not with him.

 After about an hour of waiting, she saw Marius exit the building. Quietly, she followed him. It was a bit difficult to keep track of him in the morning rush hour, but she had a lot of practice at trailing people. She hopes the police wouldn’t stop her, since she could lose sight of Marius, or worse, Marius could notice her. She didn’t want to have to explain this.

 Eventually, she found herself on a quiet backstreet. She watched as Marius approached the back gate of one of the gardens, and knocked on it. Then, she saw her.

 Cosette.

 The first thing Éponine noticed was how beautiful she was. She bore very little resemblance to the sad, shrivelled little girl that had left with that old man. Was it the same girl at all? Did it matter, really? She was still stealing Marius away from her.

 But it _did_ matter. If that man hadn’t come for Cosette, and the police hadn’t followed him, then…

 Éponine watched as Marius went through the gate, and disappeared into the garden. She waited for hours, just sitting in an alcove on the other side of the road, until she saw the two of them exit the garden, and make their way down the street.

 She didn’t know why, but as she saw them an idea popped into her head. Surreptitiously she raised her phone, and took a photo of the two of them, walking side by side down the street. She also noted down the address of the house, and quickly made herself scarce.

 Later she looked up the address on the government database. Cosette didn’t appear on the list of occupants, which didn’t surprise her. Ever since the Madeleine affair, creating fake identities out of thin air was incredibly difficult. Even before that, the best bet was to fake birth records (which her parents had done for her, Azelma and Gavroche)- once you were older and had to fake school records too, things became far, far more expensive, not that faking birth records were cheap. Cosette had ended up with them because her mother couldn’t afford to bribe the right people.

  The owner of the house was a Monsieur Ultime Fauchelevant. Éponine did not recognise the name, but recognised the face immediately. It was older, and the beard longer, but she knew the white-haired man from that snowy night eight years ago, when he had come to take Cosette away.

 Éponine felt her stomach twist as her fears were confirmed. It was the same Cosette. She laughed, if only so she wouldn’t cry. The same Cosette who had ruined her life twice.

-0-

 When Éponine was a little girl, she remembered her mother telling her a story of how she and her father met. All these years later she could hardly remember the details, except that they were young, in love and uncaring of the fact that their relationship was about as criminal as it came. Éponine always found it so romantic, especially since she, Azelma and Gavroche were born from it. She remembered dreaming of one day meeting a man like her father and falling into a whirlwind romance with him. Her parent’s relationship appeared in her childish mind as like in the illegal novels that her mother had stashed away: beautiful, passionate and romantic.

 She never noticed the strains when she was younger. The fact that her parents seemed to be together less because they were in love, and more that they had made their bed and now had to lie in it. She ignored their sniping at each other, since they still loved her and Azelma. They had all the comforts they could want, and could hold and hug each other all they wanted. She always felt a kind of superiority to the other students at her school, since they had boring families, while she had a family who _loved_ her.

 She never thought that love could be conditional.

 The stories never mentioned _that_.

 Their life had gone downhill since the police busted them. At first her father had tried bribing officials to get their records changed, but he hadn’t enough money. They had then tried living with some of father’s ‘contacts’, but soon got thrown out after they caught them stealing. This was even after throwing Gavroche out to ‘cheapen the bill’.

 After that, they had to go underground. Her parents still had their brains, so soon worked their way to the top of the underground hierarchy. But it was still a hard life, and Éponine and Azelma were expected to ‘pay their way’. Whatever her parents told her to do, she had to do it. If she disobeyed, or did it wrong, or even just caught her father in a bad mood, he would hit her.

 Éponine still remembered the first time her father hit her. She had seen violence before- her mother had beaten Cosette quite regularly- but never experienced it herself. It had hurt so much, but it wasn’t the physical pain that hurt the most. It was the fact that her father, who she had thought loved her, would cause her pain. That dream of a happy family was the first dream to shatter.

 The second dream… she didn’t think about that. It was too painful.

 So now here she was, working in her father’s ‘business’- which was really the Patron-Minette’s business. Stealing, murdering, and even worse things- that was her life now. The little girl who had dreamed of meeting a prince was gone.

-0-

 “Éponine! Hurry up!”

 “Maybe I’ll hurry if you stop yelling at me!” Éponine replied, quieter than her father. He did not reply; he probably didn’t even hear her. Whether that was because of the rain or the fact he never listened to her didn’t matter.

 Éponine wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the rain. She hated these kinds of jobs. She knew why they went out in this weather- the rain obscured the cameras and dulled any noise, but inevitably she and Azelma would be put on police watch duty, and end up sitting outside in the rain, freezing their asses off.

 Their target today was a moderately large house in one of the nicer districts. It had only one occupant, so there was less surveillance, but she was a rich professional, so they would get a good haul.

 Part of her prayed that the occupant was out this evening. The Patron-Minette never left any witnesses alive, and they never killed them quickly either.  They were the scum of the earth, and she knew that at least Montparnasse had ended up underground because of his ‘interests’. The woman living there would go through hell before she died.

 But another, darker part of her didn’t care about the woman in the house. After all, this woman had probably had a comfortable life since childhood, and never had to go hungry, or homeless, or go to sleep every night fearing that this was the night when the police bashed down the door and shot her. She didn’t have to steal to survive, and she would almost certainly live to see thirty. She probably watched the news every day and believed all the bullshit that the government said, and would report Éponine and her kind to the police without a thought. Éponine found her sympathy draining away.

 As they approached the house, she saw Claquesous raise his gun and shoot out the cameras that watched the house. This was the signal. She and Azelma took her places behind the walls of the garden, while her father and the Patron-Minette approached the house. She watched as her father jerried open the door, and entered the house. They would have a few hours at most before the police came- hopefully in this weather they would think the camera failure was an accident, rather than deliberate.

 Of course, for Éponine and Azelma, this meant hours of waiting in the rain.

 It wasn’t long before she was wet through and freezing. She wondered why she was doing this.

  _Because father told me to, and if I disobeyed he’d hit me and I wouldn’t eat, and if I ran away he’d track me down and…_

 It was strange, these doubts. She hadn’t really thought much about what she was really doing. When she was a child, she had just accepted what her father said as true. Even when her father’s kindness turned to abuse, she still obeyed, because she needed to eat, and crime was the only way to eat. Now she was having regrets, but why?

  _Marius. Because Marius manages to live without being corrupted. Because if he knew what I was, he wouldn’t want to look at me._

_Maybe he does know what I am. Maybe that’s why he loves Cosette instead of me. I bet Cosette doesn’t have to steal to live. I bet her rich father gives her everything._

Éponine did not know of Cosette’s circumstances, but she knew enough about Cosette’s father for her mind to fill in the gaps. Spite may have exaggerated some of the details in her mind, too. If that man had never come to take away Cosette, then the police would never have followed him, and then all of this wouldn’t have happened. They would still be living happily in Montfermeil.

 Éponine shook her head, as if trying to shake away those memories. She stood up. “I’m going inside.”

 Azelma looked up, “Papa told us to keep watch.”

 “Well, you can keep watch on your own.” Éponine walked into the house. The Patron-Minette had taken the house apart pretty thoroughly. She could see her father in the living room, working his way through the chest of drawers. He had already taken apart the TV for easier carrying. Still, they would probably have to use the occupant’s car to transport the stuff. It’s not like she would be using it.

 Éponine could hear her upstairs. She walked up the stairs, and heard the… sound was coming from the bedroom. Éponine walked right past without stopping. She had no desire to watch the Patron-Minette have their… fun.

 Instead, she walked into the bathroom. She tried to remember the last time she had a shower. There were washing facilities underground, but that was buckets and cold water only. Sure, the police might turn up, but there was a window to jump out of, and she hadn’t had a hot shower in months. It was worth the risk.

 She shrugged out of her clothes and stood in front of the mirror. She examined her reflection, tracing the pallid skin, her bony limbs, her protruding ribs and the dozens of scars that criss-crossed her body. She thought back to how Cosette looked. Cosette had been beautiful- pale but not pallid, thin but not sickly, and every inch of her skin perfect.

  _Well, not every inch. I bet some of mama’s beatings left a mark. I wonder if Marius knows that? Will he be disgusted with her like he is with me?_

Éponine shook those thoughts from her head. She entered the shower, and turned it on. As the hot water hit her skin, she breathed a sigh of relief. She loved showers. It was so nice to see the dirt and dust of the city disappear down the drain, and feel properly _warm_. Even in hot September, the underground was still freezing.

 She was so engrossed in her shower that she didn’t notice Montparnasse sneaking up on her until he reached over to turn off the shower. Quickly she spun around, and caught him in the face with her elbow, but he grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to the glass of the shower cubicle.

 “’Ponine, you should have told me if you were going to get naked!” he said, a laugh on his voice.

 “Fuck off, ‘Parnasse,” she spat back at him.

 He grinned, “I’ll fuck, but not off,” he leaned into her, nuzzling her neck, “God, you’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

 Éponine sighed, “Don’t you have the lady next door to screw?”

 “I lost out when we decided the order. I ain’t taking someone whose already been done by Claquesous, Babet _and_ Guelemer. I prefer people more… clean,” he kissed Éponine’s neck.

 Éponine kneed him in the crotch, and pushed him off her. She stalked out of the shower, “Hell no. I’ve just had a wash, I don’t want to get dirty again.” She started pulling her clothes back on, but Montparnasse grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pinning his arms to her sides.

 “You’ve been acting all cold to me recently,” he whispered in her ear, “I don’t like it when you ignore me, ‘Ponine.”

 Éponine tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he was holding too tightly. “Well tough shit then. I don’t want to sleep with you right now.”

 Montparnasse laughed a cold laugh that still sent shivers down Éponine’s spine, even after all these years. “That’s what you told me our first time, but you wanted it in the end, didn’t you?” His hand trailed down between her legs, and Éponine gritted her teeth.

 “You know, the police will arrive soon. You should be clearing out the house instead of messing around with me.”

 “But I like messing around with you,” said Montparnasse. His fingers started exploring down there, “And I thought you liked messing around with me, but now you said you don’t want to. Why? Do you like that other boy better?”

 Éponine froze, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have anyone but you.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You’ve been hanging around with that freckled boy under the bridge for quite a while now. He’s called Marius, isn’t he?”

 Éponine felt a fury like nothing she had ever felt before rise up inside her. She slammed her legs together, crushing Montparnasse’s hand and causing him to yelp and distract him long enough for her to twist out of his grip. She grabbed her clothes and faced him. “You hurt Marius, and I’ll kill you.”

 Montparnasse laughed, “You’ve tried to kill me before, and you haven’t succeeded. How about instead, you stop hanging out with him, and I don’t carve his cock off?” He smiled sickeningly, “Deal?”

 Éponine’s first instinct was to tell him to go to hell. After all, that’s what she always did. The first time, and the second time, and every time after that she told him where he could stick it. He usually took what he wanted anyway, but at least she didn’t lie down at let him take it.

 But this wasn’t about her. This was about Marius. Pure, innocent, naïve Marius, who thought all touch was holding hands and hugging and kissing. He shouldn’t have to know about things like this, never mind experience them. And once Montparnasse wanted you, he always got what he wanted.

 And anyway, it wasn’t like Marius was _hers_ , was he? He hadn’t spoken to her for three weeks. He had _Cosette_. He probably hadn’t even thought about her.

 Éponine sighed, “Fine, fine. I lost interest in him anyway.” She pulled on her clothes and stalked out of the house, and once again sat down in the cold rain. Unlike earlier, she was glad for the rain. No-one would see her cry. 

-0-

 Marius scrolled through his list of contacts. He needed to contact Enjolras about the mission tonight. Just as he was about to hit the call button, he glanced down at the name directly below him.

  _Éponine_.

 It had been a week since he replied to the text she sent him. She hadn’t replied, and soon he’d forgotten about it. He suddenly felt quite guilty. It had been nearly a month since he’d last spoken with her. He had been so distracted by Cosette that he’d forgotten all about meeting with her.

 He selected her name, and pressed the call button.

 The dial tone rung once, then twice, then cut off. Marius looked down at his phone. She’d hung up.

  _She’s probably busy_ , he thought _, I’ll phone again tomorrow._

  He forgot to phone again tomorrow.


	8. First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry this took a long time to write and get up! I had exams, and then the worst writer's block in the world!
> 
> I'm going on holiday for the next two weeks so there's going to be another long delay (hopefully not as long as this one) so apologies in advance.

 “So, have you done it yet?”

 Marius looked up from his position lying on Cosette’s lap. They were at a party, this one in the remains of an old underground car park. “Done what?”

 Grantaire smirked. “You know. _Sex_.”

 Marius blushed red, “I, uh… we… umm… not yet, no.”

 Grantaire laughed, “You probably don’t even know what it is.”

 Marius was about to protest that he did (Courfeyrac had shown him some material), when Cosette spoke. “I do.”

 Marius looked up at her in surprise, “Really?”

 Cosette suddenly looked nervous, the same way she always looked whenever Marius tried to bring up her past. “I saw people doing it when I was younger.”

 Grantaire looked at her, surprise but impressed, “Really? Lucky you, I didn’t get to see sex until I was like seventeen-“

 “Stop talking,” said Marius angrily. He could see that this talk was distressing Cosette.

 Grantaire however did not shut up, “What, Marius, is this sex talk making you awkward? You’re not in school anymore y’know. There’s nothing wrong with talking about cocks or-“

 He was cut off by someone hitting him round the head, “Hey, he said to shut up,” said Bahorel, sitting down next to them. He looked up, and noticed Cosette shaking, “Oh, sorry that you had to see that. But idiots have gotta learn.”

 Cosette said nothing, but Marius could tell how shaken she was. What trauma had she gone through that even the sight of Bahorel’s friendly punches could be so distressing? He sat up, and took Cosette’s hand, “Come on, let’s dance.”

 Cosette nodded, and let Marius lead her to the dance floor. They could see Courfeyrac and Jehan already dancing.  The song was a slow romantic tune, the sort Marius could dance to without tripping over his own feet.

 However, before he’d even got his arms around Cosette, the music stopped.

 Marius opened his mouth to complain, but then noticed the scared looks of all the people around. He looked at Courfeyrac, and saw the same fear on his face.

 Suddenly someone stood up on the table at the end of the room.

 “POLICE!”

 And then, all hell broke loose.

People started running every which way. Marius felt someone grab onto him, and was about to push them away when he realised it was Courfeyrac. “This way!” he yelled.

 Marius turned to Cosette, assuming she’d be panicking about this, but was taken aback by how she seemed to be taking this in her stride. Had she had to flee like this before? She looked at him, and grasped his hand.

 “Come on,” she said, and half pulled him after Courfeyrac, with Jehan, Bahorel and Grantaire following behind.

 The car park they were in connected to the underground. They simply had to get to the stairs and get down, and they would be able to lose themselves in the endless tunnels.

 But before they could even get halfway to the stairs, they heard the sound of gunfire. Marius found himself and Cosette pushed to the ground, and was about to struggle when he realised the person lying on top of them was Bahorel.

 “Masks out!” he whispered, and Marius understood. The police robots would have cameras, and having their faces all over the news would make their lives for more difficult. For those among them who had legal identities, it would destroy them.

 Marius searched his pockets for his scarf and hat, and quickly wrapped the around his face, checking Cosette at the same time. As this happened, he could hear screams as some of the other partygoers were mown down. He kept himself pressed to the ground, an arm curled protectively over Cosette.

 Suddenly he saw Bahorel stand up.

 “What are you doing?” Marius yelled. There were still bullets flying everywhere.

 Bahorel simply grinned under his scarf, and pulled a grenade out of his pocket, and yelled “Cover your ears!”. He threw the grenade towards the police robots.

 There was a huge explosion.

 Before the ringing in Marius’ ears had stopped, he felt Bahorel pull both him and Cosette to their feet. “Now run!”

 So they did.

 It was impossible to see in all the smoke and dust. Marius found himself desperately clinging to Bahorel’s arm, with Cosette clinging to him. He could hear gunshots, not just from the police but from the partygoers too. He could hear shouting too, from the fleeing partygoers and from the police too, telling people to surrender and they wouldn’t be harmed. Marius wondered if the police seriously believed that anyone who would risk breaking the contact laws would surrender to the mercy of the prisons.

 Suddenly he heard a yelp. Before he could react, he felt Bahorel fall on top of him, and the three of them ended up in a tangle on the floor.

 Marius tried to push him off them, “Bahorel, what are you-“ suddenly his hand touched something wet. A dark stain was slowly spreading across Bahorel’s stomach.

 Marius froze up. He had never seen this much blood in his life (he hadn’t seen much blood at all.) He had no idea what to do. He turned to Cosette, desperately hoping she’d know how to handle this.

 Instead, he saw her even more shaken than he was. She was staring fixedly at the blood, completely deaf and blind to all the things going on around her.

 Marius crawled over to her, and shook her, “Cosette, listen to me. We need to get him up.”

 Suddenly they heard a firm voice, “Don’t move.”

 It was a police officer, pointing a gun at them.

 Marius didn’t know what to do. His instincts told him to throw himself at the police officer. That way Cosette might escape. But there were two reasons why he couldn’t do that. One, the policeman had a gun.

 Second was he’d promised Cosette never to harm another person.

 But if they didn’t… if he didn’t fight then…

 Suddenly Bahorel moved, faster than Marius thought he could with that wound. He barrelled into the policeman, his entire weight knocking him down before he could fire off his gun, and he hit the ground with a sickening _crunch._

“Bahorel!” Marius crawled over to Bahorel, who was trying and failing to pull himself up. The exertion had opened his wounds up even further. Marius tried to lift him up, but saw that some more police robots were approaching.

 “DUCK!” yelled a voice. Marius did not stop to question it, and threw himself to the ground over Bahorel. He heard a spray of bullets, and a metallic _crunch_. He didn’t dare look up, until he felt human hands grabbing him.

 “Help me with him,” he heard Courfeyrac say, signalling to Bahorel. The two of them hefted him up, just about carrying his weight. Suddenly he realised he had forgotten about Cosette. He quickly turned, but saw she was safe, if a little shaken. Jehan was leading her away towards the door.

 It was only a few steps, but stumbling, ducking every time they heard and explosion, and praying the remaining police did not notice them, they made it through the door, and down into the tunnels.

 They were safe.

-0-

 “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

 “Shhh, Bahorel,” said Jehan softly, “We’re nearly there. Joly and Combeferre will have a look at you, and you’ll be fine.”

 They had patched up Bahorel as best as they could, and now Grantaire and Courfeyrac were carrying him slowly through the underground. It was hard going. Bahorel was quite heavy, and his wound kept reopening every few minutes, leaving a faint trail of blood on the ground. Marius worried vaguely if the police would follow them, but there had been no sight of them.

 Really, he was more worried about Cosette. She hadn’t said a word since Jehan had dragged her into the underground. Marius knew it was because of the blood, and the fact she had seen Bahorel punch someone. That didn’t surprise him- Marius himself was quite shaken by the blood- but she had been perfectly fine with bullets whizzing everywhere. It was only when Bahorel got hurt that she freaked out. What had happened in her past to make her like that?

 Suddenly they stopped. Jehan turned towards Cosette, “We’re approaching out base. Generally, as a rule, we don’t let non-members in. However, I’m willing to let this slide for you. But only if you can look me in the eye and tell me you won’t betray us.”

 “HEY!” said Marius, a bit too loudly, “Don’t you dare-“

 He stopped when he felt Cosette’s hand on his arm, “It’s okay.” She looked a Jehan, “You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t ever go out without Marius, and I’ve been hiding for my entire life. I know how to not get caught.”

 This was good enough for Jehan. “Alright. Follow me.”

 They walked for a little while longer, down some winding corridors and turned a few corners, and soon Jehan was opening a door into the Musain basement.

 The room was empty except for Combeferre and Enjolras, which was understandable considering it was midnight. The moment the two of them laid eyes on Bahorel, they were both on their feet. Combeferre was rushing around, grabbed bandages and painkillers and other medical equipment, while Enjolras helped lay Bahorel down on the mattress in the corner.

 This left Marius and Cosette feeling rather left out. Marius watched with fascination as Combeferre set to work patching Bahorel up. He had never seen a medical procedure done by a human before.

 He turned to Cosette, and saw she was crying. After the police at the party, the guns, the fleeing through the underground, it was now she chose to break down. And now, Marius realised he was crying too.

 He took her hand, “Don’t worry. It’s going to be alright.”

 They sat down on the floor and watched the others work.

-0-

 It was an hour later when Combeferre announced that Bahorel would be fine.

 “He’ll need to rest for a few days,” he said, “I’ll work on forging a doctor’s note,”

 “You can do that?” asked Marius.

 “I’m friends with a doctor who does that sort of thing. He’s one of us,” he smiled, “There’s actually more of us in positions of power than you’d think. It’s just everyone is convinced they’re the only ones.”

 “Hence how the system keeps running,” said Enjolras, “Even if a person wakes up to its twisted nature, they believe they are alone in feeling that way. That’s why these parties are so important, and why the government put so much effort into breaking them up. They fear like-minded people forming into groups and threatening their power.”

 “Like us?” said Courfeyrac, smiling.

 “Yes,” said Enjolras, “It is us who will be the vanguard of the revolution. But those people who have awakened but confrontation will be the first to join us when they see us take up arms. As will the people who have believe themselves alone, when they see they are not. And even the people who have never questioned the government will see the nobility of our cause when the revolution comes.”

 “Revolution…” murmured Cosette, “That means violence, doesn’t it?”

 Everyone turned to look at Cosette. This was the first thing she had said since the attack on the party.

 Enjolras closed his eyes, “Yes, it does mean violence.”

 Cosette chewed her lip, “But violence… violence is… it’s _hurting_ people…”

 She was shaking, and looked as if she was about to start crying again. Marius grabbed her arm, and stood up.

 “Well, we should probably be getting home now,” said Marius, far too loudly and cheerily for the situation,” he half-pulled Cosette up, “Come on, Cosette. Your father will notice you’re out.” He made for the ladder, half-dragging Cosette behind him.

 “Wait,” said Combeferre, “It’s safer to go through the underground. I’ll accompany you.”

 “Um, alright,” said Marius awkwardly. Without even saying goodbye to the others he went back into the tunnels, trailing Cosette behind him.

 They walked in silence for a long time. Then, Combeferre spoke.

 “I understand how you feel, Cosette. I hate violence too.”

 “What?” said Cosette, surprised.

 “I saw your reaction,” said Combeferre gently, “I had the same reaction when I first witnessed a human being get hurt. It was when I was a teenager. I saw a fleeing contact criminal get shot and die right in front of me. It’s a normal human reaction. We feel empathy towards the person hurt, that’s how we are. I remember when I first met Enjolras, and he said that the only way to overthrow the system is to use violence. I hated the idea, and I still do. How can you fight for good when doing evil?” He looked at Cosette, “But that’s the difference between them and us. They’re fighting for evil, trying to destroy our intrinsic humanity. Even though many of them believe they are fighting for good. We’re fighting for a better world, where people can love each other freely. We don’t celebrate hate.”

 “But…” Cosette mumbled, “In a world without the contact ban, people will be allowed to hurt each other. Physically.”

 Combeferre sighed, “Yes, that is true. The contact ban does prevent that. But such tyrannical restrictions are not needed. People can be prevented from hurting without being prevented from loving.”

 “But you can’t prevent everyone.”

 Combeferre paused. “No. No you can’t. That’s just the price we have to pay.”

-0-

 Combeferre led them out of the underground a few streets away from Cosette’s house, and bid them goodbye. It was a tense walk back to her house, but there were no police on the streets.

 Cosette opened the back door as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake her father. Marius stopped just outside. “Well, I have to go home now, so…”

 Cosette shook her head. “No. Come in. Please.”

 Marius understood. “Alright. I’ll be quiet.”

 Quietly they made their way up the stairs and the ladder, flinching every time they heard a creak. Luckily, Cosette’s father was sleeping soundly in his room, and they made it to her bedroom without him waking.

 They sat down on the bed.

 Marius put his arm around Cosette.

 They sat in silence.

 Cosette couldn’t get the image of the blood staining Bahorel’s shirt out of her head, or the sound of the policeman’s head cracking against the ground. Memories she had long locked away returned to her. The crack of a slap, or a bunch. The sight of purple bruises blooming on her skin, or blood trickling down.

 “Cosette?” Marius’ voice snapped through her sadness like a sunbeam in a rainstorm, “You’re crying.”

 Cosette realised that tears were rolling down her face. She tried wiping them away, but they wouldn’t stop. The more she tried, the faster they came, and soon sobs wracked her entire body.

 Marius turned to face her, “Cosette-“

 She threw himself into his arms.

 She didn’t know how long she spent like that, cocooned in Marius’ loving embrace. It could hsve been minutes or hours. The world had shrunk to just Marius, gently hugging her and pressing kisses to her forehead.

 She lifted up her head, and met one of his kisses. Their mouths pressed together as their tongues explored each other, and she moved her hands to grip Marius’ clothes.

 It wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him more. She needed to feel the softness of his skin, the warmth of his heart beating in his chest, telling her that everything would be all right if she was with him. She found herself pulling at his shirt, and after some awkward fumbling it came off.

 Things happened quite quickly after that, and before she knew it both of them were sitting naked on the bed, staring into each other’s eyes.

 Both understood what came next.

 “Do you want to do this?” said Marius.

 Cosette nodded, “More than anything.”

-0-

 “Cosette? Cosette!”

 Marius groggily opened his eyes. Slowly he realised he wasn’t sleeping on his normal mattress on the floor of Courfeyrac’s room. Instead, it was a large, comfortable bed. He turned his head to the side, and saw Cosette.

 Memories from last night rushed back. _Oh yes. We did that, didn’t we?_

 Before he could properly process this information, he found himself being pushed off the bed.

 “Cosette, what are you-“

 “Just get under the bed and be quiet!” said Cosette, panicked.

 Marius didn’t understand, but did what she said. Not a moment too soon, he heard a creak, and saw the trapdoor open, and Cosette’s father climb out.

  _Oh, so that was what the voice was_. Cosette’s father was an old, white-haired man, dressed in rather shabby working clothes.

 “Oh, you’re awake. I was just wondering why you didn’t come down for breakfast.”

 “Sorry, papa,” said Cosette, “I had a… feminine emergency…”

 “A- oh,” said her father, taken aback, “Do you need any things?”

 Cosette shook her head, “No, I’ll be alright in a few minutes. You can start breakfast without me.”

 Her father nodded, “I see. Don’t be too long.”

 He disappeared down the trapdoor.

 Cosette let out a sigh of relief.

 “You can come out now, Marius. Just be quiet.”

 Marius climbed out from under the bed, “That was close.”

 “Sorry for worrying you,” said Cosette, “You really should have gone home after…” She went red.

 “After…” Marius blushed. He remembered their bodies entwining together, him entering her, the feeling of her enclosing him… Courfeyrac wasn’t lying when he said sex was the greatest thing there was in the world.

 Cosette stepped back, “So, um, I need to go downstairs for breakfast. Can you wait here quietly until papa goes to work?”

 “Of course,” said Marius, “And then after could we…” he couldn’t make the words come out, “Again?”

 Cosette smiled, “I’d like nothing more.”

  


End file.
